Saviors
by NeganWinchester
Summary: Being a Dad is a full-time job, especially during a goddamned apocalypse. Luckily, Negan is a badass. (AU. Negan with a kid.) Rated M for Language and Walking Dead's subject matter(s). Beta Reader needed. Please PM me if you're interested.
1. Chapter I: When the Levee Breaks

**Author's Note** : Hello all, author here. Just wanted to pop in. This isn't my first time in the pit, but this is my first dive into the Walking Dead. Standard disclaimer that I do not own the Walking Dead. I'm just having some fun writing this shit out. Any references made to other works are just that and nothing is made for monetary gain.

Edit: I have upped Logan's age to seven and a half for plot-related reasons. I promise it'll make sense later on for a good reason. Have also fixed a few grammar mistakes, fixed some sentences, and added some details. Moved author's note to the top because I do what I want.

I've never read the comics, my apologies. I absolutely adore Jeffrey Dean Morgan's portrayal of Negan and was inspired to write some about him. This was supposed to be a drabble, basically, but... things happened. And now I'm plotting this out to season eight.

Whoops.

Anywhoo. I've seen one or two stories with Negan with a kid, and I wanted to try it for myself. I'm just writing this for fun and because I enjoy it.

I'm a huge canon stickler, so I have done my best to draw from the comics, since they look awesome, and from the TV show, which has its issues, but I digress. I'll do my best to follow both, within reason.

Would love it if you give this story a chance, review if you like it, and if you have any issues, constructive criticism would be freaking awesome.

Okay. I've taken enough of your time. Thanks and let me know what you think and if I should continue this. I do have several chapters written out already (like I said, this kind of got out of control once I hit a good flow. I regret every life choice I have ever made ever :D).

This chapter's title and soundtrack is When the Levee Breaks by Led Zeppelin.

Thank you for reading and please enjoy. :)

* * *

Life had a funny way of being complete shit to some people, like a cruel hearted, PMSing bitch and a half with one hell of a chip on her fucking shoulder.

Negan knew this as a fact from this funny little thing called experience, which was also a complete and utter bitch in his entirely educated opinion.

Over the course of his life; his father had left when he was ten years-old (yeah, yeah, daddy didn't love him. Boo-fucking-hoo), his mother had died two years later in a car crash, and he was shuffled to his grandparents on his father's side, then his mother's. Basically from family member to family member until he was able to support himself on his own.

Because fuck that noise.

In high school, he had loved sports - he still fucking did - and played whatever sport he could get into; football, baseball, and soccer. He'd even tried wrestling at some point. Negan loved sports. Anything that challenged him mentally and physically was something he enjoyed immensely. He had an extremely competitive spirit and threw his fucking all into it, heart and soul. Every victory was hard-earned and every defeat taught him something important about both himself and people he encountered.

Maybe that's why he and his wife had gotten along so well; opposites attract and all that romantic shit. He was an outgoing, athletic, playboy manwhore and she was a academic, kindhearted homebody. Negan didn't really question anything about their relationship, he just went along with his gut for the ride. She was sweet, too good for him, way out of his fucking league, but they worked. Somehow. She softened his rough edges, and he brought out the adventurous side of her.

After earning his teaching degree at college, he applied for a job as a coach at the local highschool and when money was tight he worked as a used car salesman half the time to make a little extra fucking dough.

He liked cars, although he didn't know much about them, and he had learned to like kids. They were like little alcoholics; completely honest and funny as shit. Not lying bags of donkey dicks like most people. Of course, he wouldn't have learned to tolerate the little shits without Lucille.

Instantly a pang of hurt curled through his chest, leaving hollow pain in its wake, but he brushed it off, shoved it down and strangled it like the little bitch it was until he could ignore it like it wasn't even there. It never left though, instead sticking with him like a bad habit at the back of his fucking mind.

Lucille deserved so much fucking more then he could ever fucking give her.

Negan ran a hand over his face, thinking for the fifth time that day he needed to remember to shave that shit before calling down the hall, "You ready yet, kiddo? Fuck, you take longer then your mom to get ready." He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and checked the time; eight-thirty AM before shoving it back into his pocket.

"I do not!" A young boy, seven and half thank you very much, pulled his door shut and walked down the hall. He was tall for his age and heavier set, taking after his father, with dark hair and Lucille's light grey eyes. He looked like he was a two or so years older then he actually was and was larger then other kids his age. A red and black backpack was on his shoulders and his smaller form mostly taken over by a red hoodie that was three sizes too big, shrugged over a worn grey t-shirt.

Lucille had brought the kid home from a shopping trip and had explained to Negan that the boy had thrown a complete shit fit until he had promised to behave if he got the jacket. Lucille didn't usually buckle under the kid's demands, but after getting him to calm down and apologize, she'd agreed to let him keep it. Negan had thought it fucking hiliarious, but given the kid's frequent growth spurts, it'd be too small in about a year, maybe less.

The kid must be part mutant or some shit. Or he was eating his goddamned wheaties. Negan didn't really have any idea. Lucille oversaw breakfast, and Negan was usually at the school he worked around six. Maybe even earlier if he had shit to do.

"What-the-fuck-ever." Negan drawled, grabbing his car keys off the dining-room table and double-checking to make sure his wallet and his cell phone was in his back pocket. "C'mon, Logan. We need to go see Momma." He said, walking towards the front door.

"Good. I drew another picture for her." Logan replied, following his father out the door. Negan locked the house behind him, before the pair headed over to a beaten black mustang that stood in the driveway; it'd been Negan's grandfather's on his father's side (the old bastard was the only genuine fucker on that side of the family).

He'd spent hours watching his grandfather working on it before the old man had kicked the bucket with a heart attack at seventy-five. Negan didn't want to admit it at the risk of sounding like a complete pussy, but he missed the old bastard; his gruffness and quiet, stern affection. He was the closest thing to a father that he had ever had, especially after dear old deadbeat had skipped town a few years after losing his shit in 'Nam.

An ambulance with its siren blaring broke Negan out of his thoughts, and he and Logan watched the vehicle blaze down the road before climbing into the car. Logan sat in the back, setting his backpack on the floor in front of him, buckling his seatbelt, and looking out the window.

"Do you think Momma feels better today?" The kid asked after a little bit and Negan swallowed a baseball-sized lump in his throat and his eyes burned like a motherfucker. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he pulled out of the drive and started down the road.

"I don't know, kiddo, maybe." He said, trying his damndest to keep his voice light. The doctors weren't optimistic; they basically said it would be any day could be the last and that fucking hurt more then anything. And that was just the idea of losing her, he couldn't imagine how it would be to finally lose her. Every day he hoped it would be just one more day and some naive fucking part of him hoped she could still kick cancer's ass and make it her little bitch.

A Led Zeppelin song filled the background as father and son drove to the hospital. The Virginian city seemed almost alive with ambulances, police cars, and even fucking firetrucks, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Negan brushed it off idly as a fatal traffic accident somewhere and kept driving, even as Logan watched the flashing lights completely entranced.

The kid had told him once he wanted to be a cop and Negan couldn't help but laugh, amused at the idea. Negan had spent most of his adolescence fucking around and barely escaping arrest with his friends after doing some grade A stupid shit. It had been fun before life had given him another brass-knuckle double-tap bitchslap from hell.

He remembered Lucille smacking him pretty damned hard too, scolding him for laughing at their boy's dream. Logan had forgiven his Dad rather easily, but only because Lucille had intervened. The kid had been ready to completely disown his father for his career judgments. He practically had Negan written out of his will before his Momma had talked him out of it.

They pulled up at the hospital after about fifteen minutes, finding the parking lot full and the parking garage near the hospital pretty fucking packed. Negan frowned as he slammed the door shut, waiting for Logan to do the same. The kid was pretty independent and hated to be treated like he wasn't capable. He wasn't a baby, and any attempt to treat him like he was one was met with some pretty fucking funny glaring and sulking, or tantrums as a last result.

Holy shit, the goddamned tantrums this kid threw. That's when the fucking exorcist voice came out. Kid spoke in fucking tongues when he got goddamned mad enough.

"C'mon, kiddo. Stay fucking close. No wondering off." Negan said, shoving his keys in his own jacket and walking towards the elevators that would take them to street level. Logan trailed behind him, forced to jog in little bursts to keep up with his father's long-legged strides.

Once at the hospital, Negan checked in with one of the poor harried-looking woman handling the busy front desk before they headed to the ICU, taking an elevator up and trying to tune out the tinny, shitty elevator music that played over the speakers.

Logan rocked back and forth boredly, before trying to whistle, only making 'pbtttting' raspberry sounds, but he didn't seem that dejected with his lack of ability. He was a determined little shit, apparently. Negan would have to teach him later. No son of his would go on not knowing how to whistle. It was an important fucking life skill to learn, like fire-building or some shit.

Negan ruffled his hair affectionately before stepping out of the elevator and with every stride closer to Lucille's room, he felt his stomach dropping lower and lower the further they walked. He opened the door, forcing a smile and throwing his arms out for his grand fucking entrance.

"Luuuuucy, I'm hoooome." He crowed, grinning brightly.

"Hi, Momma!" Logan immediately climbed up into the chair next to the hospital bed, plopping himself on his ass and pulling his backpack onto his lap. Lucille's all too slender hand reached out and stroked his short dark hair.

"Hey, baby." She whispered, before smiling at her husband. "Hello to you too, handsome. How are my boys today?" She continued stroking Logan's hair and the kid leaned into the touch, rifling through his backpack with one hand, searching for something.

"We're fine, right, brat?" Negan answered, pulling up another chair and taking a seat. Logan grinned and nodded, before handing his momma a picture he had been working on; any attempts on Negan's part to see it had resulted in the shit fits of shit fits and he'd given up rather quickly. Fuck it, he'd just be surprised too, apparently.

"Oh, Logan, that's amazing." Lucille sighed, a slightly gurgling sound with a rattle near the end that put Negan on edge. "Are those dinosaurs fighting pirates?"

"Robot dinosaurs and ninja pirates." Logan said, leaning against the metal rails that helped keep Lucille from rolling out of bed. Not that she had the energy to even move that much, but Negan had been told it was hospital policy. He knew the kid wanted nothing more to cuddle up with his mom - and fuck, he couldn't blame him - but they'd talked about it. Logan hadn't been happy, but he was a smart little shit and understood.

"You could be an artist, instead of a cop." Lucille sighed, before she laid her hand across her stomach and closed her eyes. Negan swallowed the lump in his throat again and reached over to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles and trying not to stare at the bluish tint that was beginning to take over his wife's bone-thin fingers.

"I could do both." Logan said and his mother laughed softly, before it ended in a raspy cough. "When are you gonna get better?" The kid asked, looking at his mother hopefully.

Negan and Lucille exchanged a quick look and Lucille gently squeezed her husband's hand. He choked up like an overly emotional little bitch; how the fuck was she so strong and she was the one dying. He was practically in fucking tears just sitting here, completely healthy and his cancer-ridden wife was sitting there comforting him.

Even during the early stages of her cancer, when she was puking constantly and lost her hair from the chemo treatments, Lucille always stayed the storm. Negan may be a strong man physically, but Lucille was the strongest of them mentally and emotionally.

"I'll feel better any day now, baby." Lucille whispered, giving Logan's hand a reassuring squeeze and her eyes drifting shut as she lasped into sleep.

Negan swallowed with extreme difficulty and kissed the back of her hand, before standing up and gesturing to Logan.

"C'mon, kiddo. Let's get something to eat and let Momma rest for a bit, okay?" And give him a chance to not break down in the hospital room again. He never cried in front of Logan. Fucking ever. The last time he had been here while the kid was at school, he had started crying like a little bitch. Lucille had held his head close to her chest and he dribbled all over her hospital gown like a fucking baby, stroking his hair and mumbling reassurances to him like he was a goddamned kid.

"Okay." Logan stood on the chair and leaned over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek before jumping down and following his father out of the hospital room. "Do you think they have jello?"

"Sure as shit, kiddo. Wanna see if your mom wants some when we get back?" Negan looked down at the boy and Logan peered back up at him, nodding enthusiastically with an excited grin.

"Fuck yes."

"That's my boy."

* * *

"For fuck's sake, just eat it."

"It's jiggly. So jiggly. Jiggly as fuck."

"It's fucking jello. What'd you expect?" Negan was torn between amusement and aggravation, staring at his kid in bewilderment as the brat poked at the jello like it was John Carpenter's the Thing. It probably was just as good for your health, to be honest.

"Less jiggle." Logan pouted, glaring at the jello like it had taken a fake-fruit tasting shit in his fake-fruit tasting froot loops. "Why does it jiggle so much?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Negan asked, poking at the bowl of salad he had gotten. It was the most palatable thing on the whole damned menu because fuck no, he was not getting jello. The six year old didn't even want to eat the jello, he was too busy going Jigsaw on it by jabbing at it with a plastic spork. "I don't think it'll talk."

"It might." Logan said, picking up his knife next as his father watched, feeling the tiniest bit better about this whole shitty ordeal of a shit sandwich. "We still gotta get some for mom." The kid added, stabbing the jello in its jello-y guts.

"Sure thing, kid." Negan said, his mood immediately taking a nose dive. He set his own spork down and took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Logan, we need to talk about some shit." A pause. "Stop torturting your fucking food for five seconds and listen to me."

Logan looked up , hunching his shoulders like he was about to be sent to the corner for time-out; Lucille had been - was - fucking adamant about not ever laying a hand on the kid, and Negan agreed whole-heartedly. You didn't do that shit to kids. Negan sighed and rubbed at his face again - still needed to shave, goddamnit.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Logan." He started off carefully. The kid was smart. He got it from his parents; ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent from Lucille, and about a zero point one from his father. Thank god. The kid took after Negan with physical looks, but he was sweet and smart like Lucille.

They'd talked to him about the fucking cancer and what it was doing to his mother, but Lucille had made him promise not to talk about death until it was pretty much inevitable.

Negan had agreed that avoiding emotionally scarring your kid sounded like a good idea, but now he wished he had mentioned the possibility before. That sounded better, instead of coming the fuck out of leftfield with it. Something about emotionally suckerpunching the shit out of your young child left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Your mom isn't gonna come home.. She's sick and she aingt getting better. We're..." He swallowed, and fuck his eyes hurt. "It's just gonna be you an' me, kiddo. I'm sorry. Fuck, I don't know what to say or do, but it is what it fucking is."

"I know." Logan's little voice is even smaller and quieter then it usually is and he seems to shrink in on himself in his seat, not meeting his father's gaze. His lip wobbled and his eyes are getting brighter and more watery with unshed tears.

Negan feels like a complete asshole not knowing what to do and he wonders - not for the first time - why his and Lucille's roles aren't reversed. She's so much better at this parenting shit then he'll ever be. Why she has the cancer and he doesn't is beyond him. He'd rather she be there to take care of Logan instead of him. He'd fuck it up somehow.

Shitballs, he already is fucking it up. He can barely talk to Logan without being a smartass or making goddamned small-talk. Like he can hardly connect with the kid at fucking all.

"I know this shituation isn't the least bit fucking fair to you. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty fucking pill to swallow, but we both gotta do it." Negan sighed and got up, sitting down on the bench next to his son and pulling him close. Logan curled against him, his small body shaking as he sobbed into Negan's jacket. Negan stroked his back, wrapping his arms around the child and rocking him gently, like he and Lucille had done countless times before. "You and me both, kiddo."

* * *

Logan had cried himself out after about fifteen minutes, and now was slumped against his dad's side, his face red and eyes a little puffy. Negan kept rubbing his back comfortingly until the sniffles and whimpers quieted and the boy seemed more calm, or about as calm as he could be considering the situation.

"You think you're okay to go see Momma again? We need to spend as much time with her as we can, you get me?" Negan asked, tilting his head as he looked down at the boy slumped tiredly against him. Logan nodded mutely, before burying his face into his father's side.

Negan heaved him up - damn, the little shit was getting heavier every damn day - and picked up the bowl of jello for Lucille. She wouldn't eat it, but it'd help Logan feel better. Give him some control over an uncontrollable, shitty situation.

It only took them about ten minutes to get back to Lucille's room; Negan set the jello down on the table beside her bed and settled Logan into his chair closest to Lucille. The kid hadn't wanted to walk back to the hospital room, but he wasn't too heavy for his dad to carry him yet. Although a hernia was in the near future if they kept this shit up.

Negan sat in the chair he always used. He talked to Lucille, more at her then anything, but it made him feel a little fucking better about the shit sandwich he was being forcefed.

Logan would pipe up occasionally, but he mostly stayed preoccupied drawing more pictures for Lucille. The nursing staff had been fucking angels and would tape Logan's drawings for his mother on the walls, so she could see them. It seemed the brat was determined to cover all the walls; he got an A plus plus for effort.

Right now the kid was sitting in his usual spot in the chair, only paying half attention to the cartoons playing on the tv - something with a purple fucking dog or some weird shit like that. It all looked like goddamned nightmare fuel to Negan, but the brat never really seemed to mind the somewhat frightening imagery - at least until it was nighttime. Negan had lost track of how many times he had to check under beds and in closets for monsters and shit.

Negan had asked him to keep the volume down so Lucille could sleep more easily, but it seemed like the kid just wanted something there to watch while he drew. As long as it kept him preoccupied and happy, his dad didn't mind.

Negan watched Lucille sleep, feeling more like a fucking observer, or an outsider looking in. It was hard to believe that his life had taken this shitacular turn.

Negan now sat as close to Lucille as he could get, her hand in his. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the cold skin of her knuckles, memorizing every detail of her face. Even sunken in from sickness and chemo, she was still his angel. Still as beautiful as when they had first met. Back in high school when shit had been so simple. He was the jock class clown and she was the teacher's pet good girl with her nose in a book and who was nice to everyone. All of their plans back then didn't go over any of this shit. For the most fucking part it was planning out their house, a large family like they both wanted, and a life of love and laughter.

Goddamn, it was dusty as shit in here, he'd have to tell a nurse to get that shit straightened up lickity-fucking-split. His eyes were stinging like a mother fucker.

"Lucy, baby, I love you." His voice cracked like he had been thrown ass first back into puberty, but he kept going, wanting to spill his guts to the woman that was his soulmate. "You're going to fucking beat this, okay? Stop all this goddamn negative thinking. You're like a health ninja who's going to broadsword the fuck out of this cancer - you're going to-" He kissed her hand again, not bothering to hold back his tears as the words tumbled out.

The worst fucking thing was he knew what he was saying was complete bullshit; she couldn't get better. The cancer had progressed too far and now it was just a morbid fucking waiting game. He wanted an end to this, to stop Lucille's pain, but he was also a selfish prick and didn't want to let her go.

"You're off your game." Lucille's voice was so quiet, he almost missed it entirely. "Even Logan knows ninjas... don't use broadswords." Negan chuckled feebly, looking over at Logan who smiled with pride at his fucking superior ninja knowledge - smug little shit.

"I need you to know that you are everything to me. I'm not perfect... Hell, I'm a fucking piece of dog shit. You deserve so much better." He kept rubbing his hands over hers, as though trying to will life back into her. And the words kept fucking coming, faster and faster and broken and more broken. "Did I do this to you? Did I fucking cause this? If I'd been there for you... And not... if I didn't... Would you have been strong enough to fight this?" He squeezed his eyes shut as his body shook with barely-restrained sobs. "Please don't go... Don't leave me, baby..."

Negan startled at the feel of a hand on his knee, looking over through blurry eyes to Logan, who was crying as well. Negan immediately scooped him up and held him close, the two clinging to each other like lifelines as Lucille drifted away again. She was doing that more and more often for longer and longer fucking periods of time. It worried the shit out of him, but she didn't seem to be in as much pain and goddamned suffering while she was asleep. When she was sleeping, she looked at peace, for once.

The door flung open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. Both Negan and Logan jumped, scared shitless, as a nurse or some shit in a bluish scrubs stood in the doorway, looking just as fucking spooked as they did. Fucker also looked like he had just run a marathon after downing five bottles of pepto bismol and topped that shit off with ten goddamned tubs of chalk-shit tasting tums.

"Sir! Sir! We've evacuated the hospital! This area is not safe!" The man said in a panicked voice, stepping into the room. Negan could see a flurry of people behind the man running down the hall, screaming their fucking heads off about something. "You and your son need to come with me!" He added, gesturing back towards the fleeing people behind him.

Logan made a distressed sound in his throat, between a 'no' and a whine, shrinking back against his father's burly form and eyeing the other man with fear and worry. Obviously, the man's fear and the panicked people running past were scaring the shit out of the kid.

"What?!" Negan growled, standing up, one arm bracing Logan against his chest. The kid squirmed and prodded his dad's ribs in protest, demanding to be put down, but Negan wouldn't have it, not with some strange fucker in the room yelling at him and trying to take them away from Lucille. No fucker on this fucking planet was prying him from Lucille's side. The man reached over and grabbed his arm, and Negan growled deeply in his throat and Logan clung tighter to his jacket. "I'm not fucking leaving my wife!"

"She's too sick to move -" The fucker insisted, giving a tug before Negan pulled his arm out of his grip and backed away so the shithead couldn't grab him again. He curled his lips into a snarl, bristling and angry as all hell.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" He snarled. His hands were clenched into tight fists; he was gonna punch the everloving fuck out of the fucker if he touched him or Logan again.

"Fuck off!" Logan growled, although he fell pretty fucking short of being anywhere close to as intimidating as his father. Good effort though.

"It's not safe here." The nurse was beginning to back up, turning back towards the door. He obviously wanted to leave, but convincing Negan to leave compelled him to stay - for the moment. "Save yourself!" Finally, his bravery failed him and the bastard left, joining the fleeing crowd rushing past in the hallway.

An explosive sound outside caught Negan's attention and he stumbled to the window to see a car in the parking lot had caught fire and people scattering in all directions, but while some were getting the fuck out of dodge, others shambled slowly, like they had suffered traumatic brain injuries while drunk off their asses.

"What the fuck..?" Negan gasped, his grip loosening on Logan enough so the kid dropped to the door. "Those people..." He watched in bewilderment as a doctor fled a group of the slow-moving fuckers below, screaming his goddamned head off. "... there's something wrong with them." The door clicked behind him and Negan turned to see Logan locking it, before he moved to the shelf that held the tv and tried to shove it in front of the now closed door. However, he couldn't fucking move it by himself.

Negan rushed over to help, pushing the shelf up against the door, muttering all the swears he knew. The two leaned against the shelf panting as the muffled sounds of chaos outside the calm hospital room surrounded them. Negan looked over to where Lucille still lay, peacefully asleep despite the anarchy happening outside.

"Probably best you're sleeping through this, baby." He sighed, ushering Logan back to his seat. The kid eyed the door again warily, but obeyed, clambering up and hugging his knees to his chest. Negan looked down at his wife and son, before, dragging his chair around the bed next to Logan's.

"Should be all over by the time you wake up." He looked at Logan and the brat nodded, hanging onto every word. "We'll be okay." He reached over and stroked Logan's hair gently, before taking Lucille's hand once more. "We'll be just fucking fine."

He rested his head against Lucille's stomach, fighting in vain to keep the tears streaming down his cheeks as he gripped the sheets that covered her frail form like the desperate fucker he was. But he'd been too strong for too long and this shit, piled on top of Lucille's cancer and caring for a kid, it was too much. He burried his face into Lucille's sheets like he was Logan's age instead of forty-fucking years old.

He felt fingers going over his hair and he looked up, hoping to see Lucille awake, even if meant he was being fucking pathetic, as per fucking usual it seemed. Logan was perched in his chair, grey eyes watery and frightened, but he reached over kept stroking his father's hair.

Negan gave a weak as fuck smile, although he really did appreciate the gesture. He rested his cheek against Lucille's stomach, letting his eyes drift partway shut. Seeing his father calm the fuck down, Logan settled back into his chair, chewing on his lower lip before he went back to his drawings.

Negan continued to watch the crazy as shit events unfold from the window of the hospital, even as Logan dozed off in his chair, head pillowed on his backpack. There was something really fucking wrong with the people in the street; they didn't look right, they didn't act right. Negan's skin prickled with nerves just looking at their stumbling, hunched forms.

A loud sound from the parking lot jerked him from his thoughts, and he released Lucille's cold hand to run to the window to see what the fuck was going on. Behind him, Logan made a sleepy, questioning noise, sitting up in his chair and rubbing at his eyes.

"Fucking shit." Negan whispered, his hands pressed against the cool glass as he looked down into the parking lot. A car had just crashed, the front completely fucked up and crumpled and a horde of those odd people outside clustered around it. Scattered around the rest of the lot were the fallen and bloodied bodies of other people, some missing limbs and large portions of their fucking bodies. Like they were fucking eaten away.

A strained gurgle from behind startled him, and he turned to see a wide-eyed Logan and a feebly squirming Lucille. She had ripped one of the tubes from her nose and stared at him blankly, still making the weak, raspy sounds.

She gave a lurch, and practically threw herself over the bedrails and out of the bed, landing on the floor with a loud, boney thump. The IV stand holding the bags of fluids and pain meds for her fell over as well with a crash. The blankets that were tucked around her ended up holding her in place.

"Lucille?" Negan rushed to her side, scared shitless that she had hurt herself. Logan leapt off his chair, looking concerned and moving closer to his mother as well. "Lucille! Are you okay?!" He bent to help her off the floor, a hand going to her shoulder. "I thought you were - I thought you'd -"

Another garbled growl broke from Lucille, halting both her boys in their tracks. Logan looked up at his father, uncertainty on his face. Lucille looked up, her face bloodied from where she had bitten clean through her lip and the tube from her mouth fell out, splattered in red.

"Lucille!" Negan immediately threw himself back, scrambling away out of Lucille's grasping hand. "Stay back!" Chest heaving, he held an arm out to keep Logan away as well. Meanwhile Lucille kept growling, a broken, raspy sound, reaching out to him as if to touch his face. Negan crawled slowly forwards, gently grasping the sleeve of Lucille's hospital gown to keep her hand away from him. He poked her face, finding her skin ice-cold and clammy. And she wasn't breathing. "That's not... This isn't real." He muttered, trying to convince himself that this was just some fucked up, horrific nightmare.

Logan made a keening sound, like a hurt animal and Negan waved him back, even though the kid hadn't made any moves to come closer; he'd doen the opposite and had actually moved back against the wall so he was pressed against it.

"You're not.." Negan leaned ever closer to Lucille's broken and bloodied face, but no recognition lit her once vibrant eyes. "Do you...?" He lifted a hand towards his face, but stopped himself when she snarled at him, her lifeless eyes locked onto his, unblinking. "It's me.. It's your husband... And Logan, your baby." Lucille growled weakly in response, but it was inhuman, animalistic.

She wasn't there anymore. It was her body, but Lucille had moved on, leaving only an empty shell. Their love, their life together was gone forever, like her. He didn't deserve her. Never had. And now she was gone.

Tears came unbidden to his eyes, and he didn't even try to hold them back. For months and months he had done his absolute damndest to hold his pathetic ass together, but now.. What was the point of hold it back? He had failed her. This was all his fault. He failed her.

Negan startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, ripping his gaze from Lucille to see Logan standing behind him. The kid rubbed his back gently and Negan ducked his head again, feeling shame well up. He was sitting on the fucking floor sobbing like a fucking baby and his son was comforting him. Again. Being the selfish bastard he was, he took a few steadying breaths, his body shaking, taking his time gathering himself together. If not for his sake, then his child's. Lucille's child. Their baby.

Negan tightened his grip around Lucille's cold arm, holding her down as firmly and gently as he could as he placed a tender kiss on her forehead. She snarled and groaned, dead eyes watching as he did so, before leaning back. He sat back on his haunches, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand to wipe away his traitorous tears.

"I'm sorry, Lucy-baby."

Her hand reached for him again, but Negan was already moving, ruffling Logan's hair with one hand before pushing him along. He pushed the shelf holding the tv away from the door, while Logan watched his mother, his face unreadable. After a few seconds, the boy turned away and looked to his father for direction, his shoulders set.

Negan knew they'd have to sort this shit out later; it probably wasn't normal for kids to see their moms die and not outwardly react. Logan's whole demeanor was one of unexpected acceptance and his father knew that was not fucking normal by any means, no matter the fucked up situation that they now found themselves in. Poor kid was probably so traumatized, the easiest thing to do was keep going. Maybe that was a good idea; bury this shit down deep and deal with it never.

Two fucking thumbs way up.

Negan poked his head out the door, a scream coming from down the hallway breaking him from his thoughts.

"Fucking fuck!?" Down the corridor littered with papers and dropped belongings a young black man in a hoodie was using an abandoned gurney to hold off two snarling and grey people, one in a business suit covered in blood, and one a woman in jeans a t-shirt. Their stiff arms reached for him over the top, their faces slack of any humanity and motions stiff. They hadn't noticed Negan, but the man desperately fending them off certainly did.

"He-hey, help!" The gargling woman managed to grab the kid by the front of his sweater and the teenager struggled to get away, trying to use the gurney as a fucking shield. "Oh god! Oh god!"

"Be more practical, kid." Negan growled, rushing forwards. "Call someone who can actually fucking help." He snarled, grabbing the gurgling woman by the back of her t-shirt and throwing her away. She slammed into the nearby wall, but the man in the business staggered forwards, grabbing for any part of Negan he - or rather, it - could reach.

"Their heads! You gotta bust them open or they just keep coming!" The teen shouted, looking around desperately for anything that could be fucking useful. "I seen one get shot five times." Negan groaned as he was slammed against the wall by the dead weight of the obviously reanimated man, the creature's bloody jaws snapping towards him. He braced an arm against the fucker's chest to keep him at bay, trying to keep the man from biting him.

Logan stood in petrified fear before he looked around for something to help, picking up a vase from the nearby nurse station and chucking it at the woman. It smashed into the woman's shoulder, breaking into pieces and falling to the floor.

The woman snarled and jerkily turned to look at the kid, who grabbed a fucking stapler of all things and chucked that at the dead bitch too. It thunked to the floor uselessly as the woman continued on, advancing on the kid, who ran behind the counter.

Negan's eyes darted around wildly for anything he could use as weapon, landing on a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall next to him. He ripped it from its mount and cracked it against the infected man's skull. sending him to the floor.

Negan brought the end of the extinguisher down on the man's skull twice, the meaty wet thuds filling the hall along with Negan's pants. But he couldn't really hear it over the pulse hammering in his ears.

Gasping for breath, he ran over to the nurse station, rounding the edge of the circular desk to see Logan shove an office chair at the woman, sending her stumbling again. Negan brought the fire extinguisher around again, cracking the woman across the back of her skull.

Congealed, dark blood splattered his face, feeling cold and wrong. Negan stood huffing and puffing, his hands trembling on the blood-covered fire-extinguisher - there were even bits of fucking hair sticking to it. Holy shit balls, he was going to throw up.

"Thanks, mister." The teenager said, coming from around the gurney. "You guys okay?" He approached slowly and cautiously, head tilted warily. Logan inched over to his father, eyeing the stranger just as warily as the stranger eyed them.

"No... I'm not.. I just murdered too people." Negan gasped, still feeling out of breath even as his adrenalin burned through him ice cold and scalding hot at the same time. "I'm a fucking murderer." He swallowed heavily and slumped against the wall, dragging the fire extinguisher he had used closer, feeling like it was the only thing keeping him fucking anchored to the present. This fucking day just kept getting better and fucking better.

"I don't think they were people." Logan muttered, glancing at the two fallen bodies before plopping down next to his father. He kept looking at the blood with an odd expression, like he wasn't sure what to think of it.

"You can't murder people who are already dead, man." The teenager said, sounding a little surprised that Negan didn't know already know this fucked up shit. "These guys were dead on the ground when I came through here." He gestured to the pair of lifeless forms with one hand. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"They're dead?" Negan blinked, confused, but the pieces of the puzzle were slowly getting their asses in the proper places. Lucille's lack of recognition, her falling out of bed with a strength that she hadn't had in weeks, the fact that she hadn't spoken a word, just garbled snarls and growls. "They're just mindless monsters now..."

"Trying to eat us..." The kid supplied, helping Negan make sense of this complete and utter clusterfuck. "Yeah. This has been all over the news for days. The dead are taking over." He waved a hand in emphasis, obviously surprised Negan hadn't already figured this shit out. "Where you been?"

"I've been a little.. Preoccupied." He hadn't been watching the news; it'd been the furthest thing from his fucking mind. Looking over at Logan, he saw the kid hugging his legs to his chest again, staring straight ahead. If he wasn't fucking traumatized before, he sure as shit was now, watching his father beat the fuckity fuck out of two people with a fucking fire extinguisher. "Down the hall a ways.. There's another one on the floor... Next to a bed. Could you handle her for me?" Negan looked down at his own shoes, covered in splatters of mostly-dried blood. "I'm a little beat."

"Yeah..." The kid muttered, voice low as he looked down at the shell-shocked pair. "Sure." He grabbed the extinguisher and hauled it off down the hall, back to Lucille's room. Negan rested his arms on his bent knees, focusing on breathing.

Just keep fucking breathing.

There was a muffled thump and a small jolt against his side. Negan looked over to Logan, who was now leaning against him, his face buried against his father's arm. Negan shifted, placing his arm around the brat and tugging him close again.

"I know, kiddo." Negan sighed, rubbing Logan's shoulder as the boy finally wept against him. "I guess we're all having a fucking shitty day."


	2. Chapter II: Nothing Else Matters

**Author's Note** : Hello again. Just wanted to say thank you for the follows and review on this. Still having fun writing this, so I'll keep going. Some reviews would help keep my motivation up, but only if you guys want to, that is (If this writing shows up as really tiny, I don't really know why. I can't figure it out and I'm too freaking tired to mess with it right now. To be honest, keeps fucking up my formatting and messed this up so I had to repost it about three times. Sorry about that).

Edit: Fixed some grammar issues and run-ons.

Chapter title and soundtrack based on Metallica's Nothing Else Matters.

 **Mischi2610** , thank you very much for leaving my first review on this. I literally squeed. I'm very grateful and happy that you enjoyed. :)

* * *

"Kid, slow the fuck down." Negan called out as loudly as he fucking dared, walking after the teenager trail-fucking-blazing ahead, with a determined set to his shoulders. They had managed to reach the parking lot of the hospital without further fucking incident inside the hospital. Thank Christ. It seemed that most of the walkers had abandoned the hospital along with the still living people.

The parking lot outside of the hospital was now mostly deserted, only a few crashed and burnt out shells of cars remaining. Some were still smoldering, smoke rising from their blackened frames.

"Yeah, slow the fuck down." Logan piped, trotting at his father's side. He took wide steps around the blood and bodies laying in the street, keeping as close to his father as he could. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack as he jogged along to keep up with the two older men.

"You, shut it." Negan said, giving the kid an affectionate but firm cuff on the head. Logan had the balls to rolls his eyes at him, but Negan supposed that a fucking seven-year old rattling off swears like a fucking sailor denied shore leave was the least of their troubles for today. They had bigger fucking things to worry about then a kid with a mouth on him like a pissed off drunkard.

"I gotta get home." The younger man ahead of them said, not slowing down and certainly not showing any signs of stopping any fucking time soon. He was still walking down the sidewalk with a determined set to his shoulders. "Not safe to be out anymore."

"No shit."

"Logan, you're not fucking helping right now." At least the brat got the kid to stop walking and look at them, even if it was a look that clearly questioned Negan's parenting methods, his possible sanity, and how the hell someone let Negan near a seven year-old to begin with. "How far is your house?" Negan asked, holding up his hands in a calming gesture and using the voice he usually used with pissed off or upset as hell kids. Maybe the gentle approach was best right now. The shituation they found themselves in certainly fucking warranted it. "Probably not going to be the easiest fucking trip to make on foot." He gestured to the fallen bodies laying in the street with one hand. "I mean, I don't mean to be telling you your business, but the brat and I could help by giving you a lift."

"Would you really drive me?" The other male seemed actually surprised, his dark eyes flickering from Negan to the kid standing by his side and then back again. Negan could practically see the cogs in his head a-fucking-turning as he processed this.

"Yeah, why the fuck do you think I stopped you." He nudged Logan before the little smartass could spout something else off - the kid just had that mouthy look - continuing after Logan just glared up at him. Apparently the little brat was insulted that his colorful vocabulary was not particularly welcome in this conversation. "You fucking stupid or something?" He folded his arms across his chest, tipping his chin up and staring at the kid with a level gaze. Logan looked up at him before mimicking his father, crossing his arms over his chest as well.

"He did know about the monsters." The kid said after thinking it over for a few seconds, glancing up at his father before looking at a car that had crashed into a lightpost; belongings were scattered in the street, some splattered with blood and gore. Negan gently nudged him once more to get his attention off that shit, and the trio moved on, Negan taking the lead, headed towards the garage. They'd grab the mustang and then get the fuck out of dodge.

Logan fell into step after his father and the teen headed up the rear as the small group headed up a side street near the hospital, leading to the garage. In the street ahead of them, a man in a jacket and jeans and a woman in a skirt, shirt, and missing one shoe staggered by, groaning softly.

"You're not very nice." The teen muttered, as if just realizing this as he was peering over Negan's shoulder as the two infected stumbled slowly past. They pressed themselves against the wall of the alley-way to keep out of view.

"I traded nice for funny a long ass time ago." Negan snorted, flashing a smug smirk that Lucille had always rolled her eyes and giggled at. "You'd be surprised how much better it works. Nice is boring. Nice has never led to fucking in the history of anything. Funny fucks all day and night. That's how I ended up with this little shit." He grinned, gesturing with one hand to Logan, who glared at him and folded his arms across his chest. "Came right the fuck outta nowhere. Like a goddamned mid-life crisis or some shit."

"I'm not a little shit." Logan grumbled, taking his anger out on some poor innocent looking fucking rock and sending it skittering down the pavement. "And I'm not a crisis." He pouted before glaring at his dad with half-hearted anger before adding an accusatory voice, "You're a crisis."

"What the fuck ever, little shit." Negan simpered, waving a hand and smirking playfully, earning another eye-roll from the brat. "Any-fucking-way. Life is short, you should make the fucking most of it. Live every day like your last or some shit. You're what.. fifteen?"

"Thirteen." The path was now clear and the three males ran across the street, eyes darting everywhere for any other potential threats. Now they just had to head up the stairs through the parking garage to the level where they had left the mustang. Hopefully, it was still there waiting for them. And there wouldn't be a horde of undead pricks between them and it.

"Close e-fucking-nough. You're old enough to know that life is just a constant hunt for any path that leads to fucking." Negan grunted, bracing his back against the wall of the building in the opposite alley they were now taking refuge in and checking for more roamers. "Our body wants us to make babies..." Logan seemed to be trying his goddamned best to tune his father out, judging by his mortified expression. That and a little disgusted. Alright, very disgusted. About as horrified as he'd been when he'd walked in on Negan and Lucille going at it when they thought they could get a fucking quickie in. "Try as we might, to not think about it, it fucking happens to the best of us. My wife and I thought we couldn't have kids, and then this little shit decided fuck that shit, I was just taking my goddamned time."

"Dad, please stop." Logan begged, rubbing at his face with both hands as if he could make all of Negan's bullshit go away if he tried hard enough. "Please. He doesn't wanna hear about it. And neither do I."

"Are you okay, man?" The teen asked, looking sympathetic to Logan's plight. "You're wife..." He searched for the right words for a second, and Negan was pretty damned grateful, the teen had some tact. "She just died and now you're acting really weird." The kid actually looked and sounded fucking concerned about him, his dark brows raising steadily beneath his mass of neat dreadlocks as he looked between father and son, obviously hoping not to upset either.

"Dad always acts weird." Logan sighed, peering around a dumpster. "But we're having a very shitty day." He looked at the older boy, rubbing one arm. "Don't talk about Mom, please..." He moved away to stand on his tip toes, peering around the corner of the dumpster, before looking back at the two other men, but not making eye contact. "I don't see anything."

"I'm..." Negan took a breath, steadying himself while he struggled with an answer, shoving away the feelings of shame, guilt, and disgust that clawed at him. He had to be alright. He couldn't afford not to be. Logan was depending on him. He had to protect him. For Lucille. It's what she would have wanted. He wished he could just ignore the question, but the teen looked like he would keep fucking badgering him until he got an answer. "I'm fine."

* * *

They took the stairs up to the fourth level, where Negan and Logan had parked the mustang. There were still several cars, left behind from their owners in their haste to leave the city or because they bit the fucking dust. As they walked past the vehicles, Negan struck up another conversation, finding the silence a bit too un-fucking-comfortable; it gave him time to think about everything.

About her. What he had and what he had lost within just hours. He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted something else to focus on. Anything else.

"So.. Any girlfriends?" Imagine you have ladies lining down the street." Negan asked, waving a hand vaguely while looking over his shoulder while he fished in the pocket of his jacket for his keys.

"There is this girl... My neighbor." The kid replied, smiling slightly and fucking blushing. Jesus, Negan remembered being like that before he met Lucille, and especially afterwards. "I was thinking.. If I could find her... Protect her from all this, keep her safe. Maybe then she'd like me."

"Ha! Now you're talking!" Negan laughed, grinning and pumping his fist into the air. "I like your style, kid. You're alright." He said, looking over his shoulder and winking at the kid. "We could pick her up on the way out of this shithole. Might as well see if that gets you any fucking pussy points from her."

"Can we talk about something else? Girls are gross." Logan complained, looking extremely bored with the conversation, judging by the pouting expression on his face. Negan rolled his eyes; just give the little shit five years, then he'd see what Logan's tune about women was. Negan remembered gaining an attraction for women pretty damned quick.

A flash of movement caught Negan's attention, breaking him from his thoughts, and a dead fuck woman stumbled out from between two of the cars, grabbing for the teenager. She seized him by his hoodie's sleeves, earning a startled yell from him. The infected woman dragged him to the ground before digging her teeth into his neck and ripping out a chunk of stringy meat. Blood sprayed every-fucking-where, like water from a fountain.

Logan scampered away with a fearful whimper, looking torn between wanting to help and wanting nothing more than to fucking run like all hell. Negan scooped him up with a grunt and ran the rest of the way to the mustang, throwing open the door and practically tossing the kid inside like a sack of heavy-ass potatoes.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He muttered, sliding over the hood to the driver's side and climbing in as quickly as he could. He could hear Logan in the backseat saying pretty much the exact same fucking thing.

The mustang shuddered to life at a turn of the keys, and they tore out of there, screeching onto the road before heading down the street, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

* * *

The car rumbled down the road; Negan's first instinct was to head home. It was all he could think of, so he allowed his mind to take over, going over the route that had become so familiar since Lucille had gotten sick.

There was no traffic. It looked like everyone had gotten the fuck out of dodge real fucking quick. There were only a few cars here and there in the way and it was a simple matter of driving around them. It was pretty damned eerie, seeing the usual bustling city at a complete and empty standstill.

They pulled up to their house in almost record time, the streets to their neighborhood completely deserted; the walkers seemed much more concentrated in the main city center. Negan double-checked their surroundings before he stepped out of the car, on edge and not wanting to bite it. Literally. Logan followed him, once more quiet and subdued, his small body trembling with barely restrained shock and fear.

The pair walked into the house, Negan shutting the door and locking it after them. He pushed the entrance hall table in front, just in case. Logan kept walking, heading towards his bedroom, still not speaking a word. He almost moved like one of the dead, movements made jerky.

"Hey, kiddo, c'mere." Negan's voice sounded absurdly fucking loud in the empty house, even if he spoke as lowly as he could. Logan turned and trudged back up to him, obviously struggling to keep himself together. Negan sighed and ran his fingers through the kid's hair, before tugging him closer. Logan promptly let his head fall into his father's hip, his shoulders shaking. "You're okay.." Negan said gently. "You're okay. You're a tough little fucker. You got this shit."

"Momma.." Logan whimpered out, shaking even harder as his sobs became louder and louder. Negan knew the fucking feeling. He felt exactly the same on the inside, but he had to be strong. Logan was looking to him for protection, guidance, strength. He couldn't fall to fucking pieces now.

"I know, kiddo." Negan kneeled down in front of him, resting his hands on the kid's shoulders and giving a reassuring squeeze. As much as a prick as he could be, he knew how to handle crying kids. "She'd be proud of you, proud as shit. I know today has been the shittiest day in history for you. Same fucking here, but we're gonna be okay. You and me, we're gonna be fine. I won't ever let any-fucking-thing happen to you, Lo."

Logan nodded, his breathing still shaky and shuddery as fuck, but the brat was starting to calm down. Negan couldn't really blame him for breaking down; the boy was handling this better then most seven year-olds would. He tugged the kid close for a hug, squeezing him against his chest before releasing him, still holding his shoulders gently.

"I want you to go to your room and pack your shit." Negan stated slowly and firmly. "Clothes are priority, okay? You can pick some of your books and toys, but that shit isn't as important right now. You got me, Logan?"

"Y-yes, si-sir." Logan nodded, scrubbing at his face with his hands. Negan stroked his hair gently, feeling pride well up inside his chest as he looked down at the kid.

"Good kid. I'll help you in a bit. Off with you." The boy headed off towards his room again, leaving the door open, and Negan could hear him opening drawers and tossing stuff in his bag.

Negan drew in a deep, steadying breath, before walking down the hall to his and Lucille's room. Every step made him feel heavier and heavier as he walked past pictures of him and Lucille and the life they had built together. He finally pushed the door to their bedroom open with maximum fucking effort.

It was exactly how he had left it this morning, which was exactly how Lucille had left it when she had to be admitted to the hospital. Clean and orderly. She had never liked messes, unless you counted her taste in pisspoor husbands with the emotional maturity of goddamned toddlers.

The hiking bag in the top of the closet would do; Negan tossed it on the bed and started pulling out shirts, jeans, socks, and boxers to put in the bag. He was going to do his damned best to conserve as much space as he could. He immediately recalled what he'd learned from a friend who had been in the army, how to roll shit up together to make it take up less space.

In the bathroom, he grabbed as much first aid supplies as he could, the kit under the sink, hydorgen peroxide, and as many rolls of tiolet paper as they had. Once done, he tossed in his toothbrush and toothpaste, before he found himself looking in a mirror. He barely recognized the exhausted-looking, bloodsplattered, dead-eyed fuck staring at him.

This morning felt a lifetime away now. His and Logan's old life was a lifetime away now.

Shaking himself off, Negan turned and grabbed the backpack off the bed, heading back down the hall to Logan's room. He stood in the doorway watching as the kid packed his shit.

Logan had gotten most of his pants into the backpack, rolling them up even as tears trailed down his face. He hadn't grabbed any of his toys, leaving them on the shelves or their bins. He put some socks into his bag, and then shoved in as many of his favorite shirts he could.

The last thing to go was his blanket; a faded quilt that Lucille had dutifully made him while she was pregnant, before closing it off and pulling it onto his shoulders. He met his father's gaze steadily, giving a small swallow before nodding.

Once again, Negan felt a rush of pride at this fiesty, fiery little kid in front of him. He smiled in return, earning a weak, but sincere one in return before father and son headed to the kitchen. Negan pulled a knife from a knife block and turned back to the kid.

"I'm giving you this to fucking defend yourself. It's for emergencies only." He said, holding the knife out of Logan's reach until the boy nodded seriously. The brat made no moves to try and snatch it; he was still too short and his father still too tall, but he also seemed to understand the gravity of the fucking situation. "You heard the guy, aim for the head. Go for the eyes, mouth if you have to. Only if you have to. If you can run or hide, I want you to run or hide."

"I understand, Dad." Logan said, holding his hand out. Negan nodded and placed the knife into his son's outstretched hand. "I won't let you down."

"I know, kiddo. C'mon. Let's get the fuck outta here."

* * *

"Hey, Logan, hand me another nail." Negan held his hand out and Logan placed a nail into his empty palm before resuming his watch for walkers. Negan raised the hammer again and continued putting up sheets of plywood over the windows of their home. What used to be their home.

Fuck, it might as well be a stranger's now.

He didn't quite know what he expected from doing this, boarding up the windows and doors as though it would keep people out. Or keep the past locked in. A small naive fucking chump of himself hoped that he could perserve some of Lucille's memory doing this.

Realistically, he knew that one day - hell, even tomorrow, possibly - determined looters would come to this place. And what would they see? Pictures of some fucking stranger, his wife, and a kid. It wouldn't matter one fucking bit to them that this was their home.

Shit, they could be dead tomorrow. Or the day after. And all the legacy that they would have was an empty house that stood as fucking testament to a life that no longer existed. Even if they did survive this goddamned steaming shitpile of a nightmare, there was no coming back to this place.

There were too many memories here. Of Lucille, of a life lived together. It wasn't fucking perfect, but it never fucking needed to be. Lucille was all Negan had ever needed. And now he needed her and she was gone. He couldn't even bury her body properly.

Negan put in the final nail and took a deep breath. There was no point in thinking of his old life anymore. Lucille was gone. The house and life they had built together was gone. There was no going back. The best thing for him, for Logan, was to move forwards. They'd go away from this hell and find someplace, somewhere safe.

A sanctuary.

He would protect his and Lucille's son with his life. Lucille wouldn't be able to protect Logan or see him grow up. Negan would see it through. For her. He had not been able to protect Lucille or save her from a fate she never deserved. But he would protect and care for her son with every fiber of his being.

He owed her that.

* * *

Negan swore angrily as he kneeled next the mustang, smoke billowing from the propped open hood. They had pulled over to the side of the road when the mustang had started shuddering. Negan had forgotten how long they had driven, only he wanted to get as far away from the city as possible.

Logan sat on the trunk, kicking his feet back and forth and watching the road. The kid hadn't uttered a single fucking peep since they had left, sitting silently in the backseat and staring out the window.

Negan sighed as he stood up, brushing dust from his pants. He knew fuck all about cars and couldn't figure out what the fuck was wrong with the mustang. All he knew was it wasn't going any-fucking-where.

"Guess we're hoofing it, kiddo." Negan said, looking to Logan. The kid nodded and slid off the trunk, walking to the backseat, opening the door, and pulling out his backpack. Negan did the same, grabbing his rucksack from the passenger seat.

Turning his back on the distant city, Negan started walking, Logan falling into step beside him, like a silent little shadow.

Night was beginning to fall and Negan was ex-fucking-hausted. Every muscle in his body hurt like hell. Logan was running on fumes, falling behind him, but still determinedly trying to keep going.

"C'mon, kiddo." Negan bent and picked the boy up, tucking his son against his chest. Logan slumped against him, obviously struggling to keep his eyes open and much too tired to argue with him. His father was grateful. He was too tired to argue back.

Negan kept on fucking keeping on, trudging along the road and peering through the dark with a flashlight attached to his bag strap. In the glowing beam of the light, he spotted a faded sign for a motel three miles up the road.

Adjusting his grip on Logan's slumbering form, Negan continued on.

It had taken over an hour to reach the shitty little motel mentioned on the sign. Negan had been forced to hide behind a copse of trees and turn his flashlight off when a small group of walkers had shuffled past.

Once they were gone, he picked up the pace, eager to find a safe place for him and Logan to rest their heads for the fucking night.

* * *

He spotted the black shape of the sign in the darkness, and heaved a huge fucking sigh of relief. Bracing Logan against his chest, Negan walked into the deserted parking lot, spotting only a car in the corner of the lot with all its tires flat.

Negan dragged his exhausted ass up a flight of stairs, Logan still a fucking deadweight in his arms. He gave the kid a gentle little jostle to wake him up.

"Rise and fucking shine, kiddo. Up and at 'em." Logan made a sleepy garbled noise against his father's neck before looking at him tiredly. "Found us a place to sleep. But I need to check to make sure it's fucking safe." He set the kid down outside a room with a door ajar. "Stay here. Keep an eye out for walkers so I don't get cornered."

"Okay." The kid nodded, reaching carefully into his backpack for the knife. He turned towards the parking lot and watched, standing on his tiptoes to look over the railing and resting his elbows on the top.

"Good kid." Negan moved quietly into the abandoned motel room, taking note of how it looked like the previous occupants had left in a big old fucking hurry. They had probably been evacuated or left upon seeing their first walker.

For lack of better weapon, Negan grabbed the table lamp on one of the night stands as he moved through the main room, risking a quick glance over his shoulder to check on Logan, who was still keeping watch. The bathroom was clear and Negan heaved a sigh of fucking relief, before setting the lamp back on its table. He then gave a short whistle and waved to Logan.

"C'mon, kiddo. It's safe." The boy moved into the room, shutting the door behind him and reaching up to lock it. He couldn't reach the chain lock, so Negan did it for him.

Afterwards, he pushed the entertainment center over to the wide window along the wall, the tv rocking slightly as he moved it. He moved the two chairs that were in the way against the door so it was barred. Then he put the small table on top of the entertainment center next to the tv.

Once done with their task, Negan stepped back to inspect his grade fucking a handiwork. Logan plopped himself on the bed, eyes drooping as he was obviously putting a big fucking effort into staying awake. Negan chuckled as the kid's head kept bobbing.

"Scoot." Negan waved a hand and the kid moved over to one side of the bed, before flopping onto the pillow with a muffled whump. He kicked his shoes off and burrowed under the blankets. Negan pulled off his boots and socks and then shrugged off his jacket, rolling his shoulders.

He then padded over to the bathroom. Only a few spurts of water came from the fauctet when he turned it on. He used a washcloth to wipe the blood from his face and neck, before tossing it away on the floor.

He stumbled wearily into the main room and flopped into bed, burying his face into the pillows and letting his eyes drift shut. He barely twitched when Logan burrowed against his side, before lazily tossing an arm around the kid.

Sleep came as quickly as a fucking high school virgin.

* * *

 _"Negan... Say something?"_

 _"What do you want me to say, Lucy-baby?" He sighed and ran a hand over his face, dragging it down over his eyes. He couldn't understand._

 _"Something would be extremely helpful." She sniped back, folding her arms over her chest and leaning her hip against the kitchen counter._

 _"You're pregnant..." The words felt odd in his mouth, even odder to his ears and he couldn't help but shake his head at the idea. Not that he hated kids, but he and Lucille had tried for years, and nothing ever fucking came of it. They'd both just assumed it just wouldn't happen. "How are you pregnant?"_

 _"Well shit, Negan, if I have to explain it to you..." Lucille said with a tiny little taunting smirk, a smirk that always and instantly got his blood a-fucking-pumping. Damn those delectable lips._

 _"Fuck off." He grinned back, before it slipped from his face as fucking quickly as it had appeared. "So... What're we gonna do about it? Are we ready for this shit?" He sure as fuck wasn't. He was a cheating, lying piece of shit that didn't deserve the gorgeous woman in front of him, let alone having fucking children with her._

 _He had first started straying from her when it looked like a kid wasn't in their fucking future. Not that he wanted children with any of the other weak-willed bitches he spent his time with. He just wanted... Fuck, he didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him and why it took Lucille getting pregnant to knock some goddamned sense into his motherfucking thickass skull._

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

 _"Negan.. I want to try and keep it." Lucille's soft voice broke him from his fucking thoughts and he was surprised to see her small hand gripping his gently, her thumb going over his knuckles._

 _"Are you sure, baby?" He looked her in the eyes, unable to look anywhere else, her gaze capturing and holding his own. She always calmed him right the fuck down, took his spit-fire temper down a couple of pegs._

 _He knew what this fucking meant; no more bullshit. He wouldn't stray from her. He never should have to begin with, but he was a fuck-up._

 _He knew on some deep, vulnerable level that he was weak and all the loss in his early life fucked him up. Made him feel like he needed back ups and back ups of people to love him and pay attention to him. So if one left, there were always more to fill the fucking void. But fuck him, he had sworn to himself that he would never be his father and skip out if he had kids._

 _"Yes. I'm in if you are?" Lucille looked so fragile and small, looking up at him, watching for his reaction. Goddamn it, he was not gonna disappoint her._

 _"Of-fucking-course, Lucy-baby." He said, bending to kiss her and drawing her slender body against his. His rough lips found her soft ones and she giggled as his scruff tickled her face. "I'm all fucking in."_

 _"I'm glad." She reached up and cupped his cheeks in her gentle hands and he pressed his forehead against hers, relishing in the peace and contentment she brought him. Lucille pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm just gonna say right now, no naming him Negan junior."_

 _"Awww, what'sa matter with Negan?" Negan drew back, grinning broadly. Lucille smiled at him tenderly, still stroking his cheek with her thumb. "Guaran-fucking-tee you it's a good one."_

 _"Oh, I'm sure." She said, laying a kiss on the side of his jaw and he could feel her smile against his neck as she tucked her head against his cheek. "I know you don't like to share."_

 _"Fuck, Lucy-lu. You know me so well." Negan grinned, resting his large hands on Lucille's hips and giving a slight squeeze._

 _"Negan, shut the hell up." Lucille's warm hands on his back soothed him, almost making him goddamned sleepy. He wasn't ashamed to admit it, how easily her presence and voice fucking calmed him."We could think of some other names." Her hands drifted over his shoulders and then over his chest, over his heart. "I like Lorelai, Mary, and Josephine."_

 _"We're not fucking having a girl." Negan smirked, and kept fucking smirking as Lucille playfully slapped his shoulder, pushing away from him and going to the stove to start on dinner. Negan trailed after her, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Just watch, baby. We're gonna have a boy. I bet ya a million dollars."_

 _"Sure, babe." Lucille giggled as his stubble tickled her neck. Fucking adorable ass giggle. "Might as well make it two."_

 _"You got yourself a deal, Lucy-baby." Negan snickered, fucking smug as shit as always. "Or we could hope for one of each?"_

 _"Fuck, Negan, if I have twins, I swear to God I am going to fucking castrate you." Lucille growled, jabbing him in the gut with her arm. Damn, she had bony goddamned elbows._

 _"What-the-fuck-ever, you'd miss my dick too much." Negan smirked into Lucille's wavy brown hair._

 _"What dildos are for, asshole."_

 _"Just cook my dinner, bitch."_

 _"Of course, your majesty."_

* * *

Goddamnit, it's too fucking early. Negan grumbled and buried his face in his pillow, rolling onto his stomach to block the pre-dawn sunlight from fucking with his eyes for five more minutes. His whole body feels sore and strained, like he ran for fucking miles and miles.

It's then that the previous day's shitstorm of events decided to come right the fuck out of nowhere and bitchslap him right in the face.

Logan's not at his side.

Negan scrambled to sit up, kicking aside the sheets and blankets. His heart's going a mile-a-fucking-minute and his gaze searches frantically for the kid.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It's only for a few seconds before he sees the brat kneeling next to the mini-fridge of complimentary snacks and shit, organizing it into piles. Negan heaved a breath he didn't realize he was holding and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

"What the fuck are ya doing up, kiddo?" He asked, moving around the bed and looking down at the boy's project. It looked like the kid had sorted the beverages into one group and food into the other.

"Couldn't sleep." Logan said, picking up the tiniest goddamned bottle of Fireball Whiskey Negan had ever seen and setting down to an equally tiny bottle of Jack Daniels. "Figured you were tired, Dad. After yesterday..."

"Fuck yeah, I am." Negan sat himself on the edge of the bed, watching the boy continue his self-assigned task, mulling over what to say next. He and Logan never really saw eye to eye; Logan was a complete Momma's boy and Negan was this unique individual commonly referred to as a assholelis bastardis.

It wasn't until Lucille got sick that father and son were forced to learn how to communicate without Lucille there to smooth any ruffled feathers. It wasn't as if Negan didn't want the kid or like him; he'd die for Logan without a second thought, but talking to someone as stubborn as he and Lucille combined was a pretty goddamned monumentous task. The kid set the fucking record for cold shoulders, death glares, and shit-fit tantrums. Even when they got along, it was still a bit distant. Negan was gone a lot of the time with his work at the highschool, coaching and all the shit it entailed. It really didn't leave as much time to bond with his son as he knew he should.

Negan knew Logan loved him as well, but there was just a disconnect between the two of them that they needed to fix. During an apocalyptic rise of the dead shitfest, apparently. Because they couldn't just have a normal conversation without dead pricks trying to rip their goddamned guts out. But maybe they could try and fit in some father-son activities while avoiding death by the dead.

Negan rubbed at his face and heaved another sigh, moving to sit down on the floor next to Logan - even though his knees screamed at him 'what the fuck are you doing?'. He plucked up a sleeve of shitty, overpriced cookies and ripped it open. He wasn't hungry. He just felt fucking hollow and tired, but he knew he needed to eat.

"Take a break an' eat something, kiddo." He mumbled around a mouthful of cookie. "But try not to hit the Jack too much. I need ya sober."

"Okay, Dad. I'll just stick with a Coke."

"Bet you a million fucking dollars people will still give me shit for letting you have caffiene." Negan chuckled, biting into another cookie and smirking at the brat. Logan smiled a little and opened a fancy looking box of fudge-stripe cookies.

"Sure, Dad. Make it two billion."

Negan smiled, even as his heart fucking ached in his chest, and ruffled the kid's hair.

"Deal."


	3. Chapter III: Live and Let Die

**Author's Note** : Thank you very, very much for all the reviews and follows/favorites I've gotten recently. It means a lot to me, really.

Edit: Added one more flashback that was in going to be in chapter five. Fixed minor grammar issues.

Guest (reviewed on Nov 27 -/- Chapter 1): Thank you! I'm super stoked you like it and hope I continue to write stuff you like.

Guest (reviewed on Nov 27 -/- Chapter 2): I'm very happy you enjoy and hope you continue to do so with my upcoming chapters. :D

Guest (reviewed on Nov 27 -/- Chapter 2): Yeah, I was aware of Negan's backstory prior to writing this, but only the basics. Seeing the comic go over it was kind of intense for me (I had a family member pass away from cancer), but I really liked how Here's Negan worked, from the art to the dialogue, and how they made it so emotional. Thanks again for your review.

I hope you guys enjoy tonight's episode. I'm gonna be honest, not really enjoying season 8 so far. But I did like the Big Scary U. Just wish there was more of Negan. Anywho. Soundtrack and chapter title is Live and Let Die by Guns N' Roses. Please read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

Negan knelt, swearing, trying to siphon gas through a hose into a red gas can. Off to the side, Logan was sitting on the car's trunk, knife in his hand as he kept watch for walkers or other people. And speaking of fucking which.

"Dad, some fucks are coming." He said, standing up and jumping down from the car as Negan looked over his shoulder, seeing the kid was right. Down the road a bit, there were several men walking towards them. "I don't like this."

"You don't like anyone, kiddo." Negan chuckled, leaning against the car and folding his arms across his chest in a relaxed manner as the group approached. He hoped by playing it nice and cool, they could keep any violence to a minimum. If not, he was determined to kick some ass and take some names. Logan's expression said pretty much the same exact fucking thing.

"Well, people are dicks. And everyone started eating each other..." The kid trailed off as the men got close, stopping about ten feet away. He still held his knife as he glared at the approaching group. The two opposing groups stared each other down for a second or two, sizing each other up. Five against one and half wasn't the best odds, but Negan had been through fucking worse.

"Maybe that's our gas you and your brat are taking." The leader, wearing plaid and wielding a baseball bat said in way of fucking greeting. Logan glared and folded his arms across his chest in the most passive-aggressive, fuck you sort of way someone could and Negan stiffled a chuckle with a cough. How in the hell did that much sass and attitude fit into something that goddamned tiny?

"Only my dad can call me, brat, shithead." Logan bristled, his shoulders hunching up and his expression stormy. He looked about ready to kick the fucker in the dick.

"Easy, kiddo, easy." Negan drawled, giving a little howdy-do wave. "Maybe you'll be taking my beating in return. Kid can tag in when I get tired of it." A pause as he thought about what he had just said. "I mean, I'll give you a beating. Not that you'll be..." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "That was supposed to be fucking clever and it-"

"It didn't, Dad." Logan sighed, bringing a hand up to his cover his eyes, like he was the only one in the fucking vicinity being embarrassed by Negan's big fucking mouth.

"Let me start over. My biggest conversation partner is seven fucking years old."

"Seven and a half."

"We don't have time for this bullshit, give us the gas can." The man to the left of the leader, wearing a blue baseball hat and a black t-shirt demanded, taking an aggressive step forwards.

"Not fucking happening." Negan immediately shut that shit down. No way were these lumberjack-mafia-looking motherfuckers taking their stuff. "But listen. What the fuck are you going to do with it? I found a car, few blocks from here.. Ran out of gas, keys still in it. You take our gas, and you don't exactly have all the fucking pieces of the puzzle do you?"

The men exchanged glances with eachother and Negan kept going; his big mouth got him into shit a lot of the time, and a lot of the time it got him out of it. He just had to keep on talking.

"Unless you motherless motherfuckers know how to hotwire a car, you're not going any-fucking-where." Negan turned and began walking back towards where he and Logan had found the abandoned car in question, still holding the gas can in one hand.

"It'll be a little tight, but all of us could fit in the car. Follow me. Don't worry about the kid, he won't bite. And if he does, he has all his fucking shots." Logan glowered and sulked after his father, gripping the straps of his backpack and muttering angrily under his breath. "Follow me." Negan smirked and turned to where the men were still standing, obviously not certain about whether or not to fucking trust them. "Nice bat, by the way."

* * *

An hour later and Negan growled in anger as he aimed a kick at the smoking car's tire. Fucking useless piece of goddamned shit. Fuck! And now his fucking foot hurt.

"Motherfucker." He grumbled under his breath, before looking to where the group of three men were now walking away, evidently fed up with his bullshit.

"Motherfucker." Logan sighed in agreement, kicking at the tarmac under them, his gaze on the cracking street beneath their feet. Looking down at the kid's dejected body language, Negan bit back another swear, before jogging after the group of retreating men.

"Hold on a fucking moment. It was an honest mistake." He said, throwing his arms out helplessly and giving a chuckle, playing down the failure like it wasn't that big of a fucking deal. "I thought it was just out of gas. I know fuck all about cars."

The leader with the baseball bat and the plaid shirt turned and looked at them, his surly expression unrelenting and unimpressed.

"And?"

"We can find another fucking car." Negan said, grinning easily and as charmingly as he could. Logan walked up to stand next to him, watching the two adults talk shit out, his dark brows furrowed over pale eyes. "Sure there's something around here. We don't exactly got a lot of fucking competition out here."

"Why would we need your help?" The man asked, narrowing his eyes. "You and the brat are just gonna slow us down." Negan growled in response, taking a step closer into the man's personal space. Forced to look up at Negan, the man quickly amended his previous fucking statement. "Or at least the kid will."

"The kid comes with me." Negan said, his voice broking no fucking argument. "Or I keep my gas." Another awkward pause since meeting these fucking people. "My gas can."

"The little snot is just gonna slow us down and waste resources." The lead shithead replied, resting his baseball bat on his shoulder and glowering at Negan. Logan growled and his entire body language screamed 'fuck you' in about five different ways.

"Let me fucking worry about that." Negan assured, because fuck if this asshole was gonna put his kid in danger because he thought the brat wasn't worth it. Kids were always worth it; the strong protected the weak. Period. No fucking question about it. Negan had based his life on helping children be less like the assholes their parents were.

The leader scowled, obviously thinking it the fuck over before he nodded, turning to walk to his group. Negan watched him go, before looking down at Logan. The kid sighed softly, wrapping his arms around himself. Negan reached out and ruffled his hair, running his fingers through it gently.

"C'mon, kiddo. It'll be okay. Dad's fucking got this shit."

* * *

They eventually found a beaten-up old red SUV sitting at a convenience store. Logan had spotted it first, sitting on Negan's shoulders. The kid had kept up with the adults for the better part of three hours, but he had started falling behind. He'd get used to walking for-fucking-ever, but right now he was still trying to build his stamina up.

Not wanting to hear the leader, Paul, bitch about the kid slowing them down, Negan had knelt down and let the boy climb onto his shoulders. He beamed with pride as the brat was the first to spot their new ride.

"Looks good, kiddo. I like the fucking color."

He set the kid down again as they got close to the SUV, telling him to look out for walkers. Logan clambered on top of the car, using the racks on top to steady himself.

Negan watched as the men took the refilled gas can - after the fucking incident that he refused to talk about ever again - and dumped the contents that they had found. Paul, the leader, jumped in the front seat, searching the car for the keys. He found what must had been the spare set in the glove box.

With a couple tries the large red SUV was started up, with several whoops and cries of victory from the small group. Logan jumped off the top and slid to the ground, trotting over to his father.

Negan, two of the men and Logan piled in the back. Fucking immediately Logan pressed himself as close to Negan as he could fucking possibly get. He rested his head against his Dad's arm and leached against his side like a goddamned limpet.

The van rumbled down the street, and Negan leaned his weary head against the window, closing his eyes. The muffled conversations of their new group washed over him, but he listened, picking up important bits of information as the other men talked. He managed to pry his heavy as fuck eyelids open and glanced down to where Logan was curled up against him, hugging his backpack to him and passed right the fuck out.

The poor kid was as ex-fucking-hausted as his dad was. Even though Negan had slept, he still felt exhausted, emotionally, physically, and mentally. He wasn't too sure how well the kid had slept.

Usually the boy didn't have that many nightmares, but those he did were often intense and made him come running into Negan and Lucille's room to sleep with them. Negan had usually only woken up when the brat had jabbed him accidentally in the gut or back. Lucille always let the kid sleep with them if he wanted and Negan just went with the fucking flow. It had been a normal thing for Logan's age.

It was near evening when the small group finally came to a halt outside a fucking Dairy Queen. The parking lot was completely empty and the restaurant looked deserted. They parked behind the building, to hide the car from anyone who would want to take it.

The small group filed inside and the restaurant was completely still, with plates of uneaten food left at booths and stables. Negan chuckled as Logan wrinkled his nose, before his dad and one of the other guys shoved one of the heavy as fuck booths in front of the door.

Negan and Logan soon found themselves away from the group, sitting at a booth in the corner, sitting opposite of each other. Logan had found some bananas that were not too fucking bad and some of that fucking squeezable applesauce in the shitty little pouches.

"Soooo." Negan drawled as he watched the boy eat, chewing on a banana himself and sipping at a bottle of water he had gotten from the cooler. Negan had told him to avoid the milk. Shit was on its way to being rotten. "How you holding up, kiddo?"

Logan looked up at him, face dirty and streaked with sweat and dirt before he shrugged, finishing his banana and tossing it to the side. Negan splashed a bit of water onto a napkin and wiped the kid's cheek, making the boy groan and try to shove his dad's hands away.

"Daaaaaad." He whined, squirming this way and that, but a smile threatened to break forth.

"Sooooon." Negan echoed, imitating the brat's tone as well as he could with his gravelly and deeper voice. "Sit the fuck still and let me clean you up, little shit." He gruffed with warm affection in his tone. He tossed the used napkin in the same direction of the banana peel and leaned back.

"I'm fine." Logan muttered, leaning back as well and avoiding eye contact. With one hand, he traced absent-minded patterns on the top of the table. The kid was shutting up and shutting down, trying to push him away. Fuck that. Looks like their heart to fucking heart would be here and goddamned now.

"It's fine to not be fine." Negan said as gently as he fucking could. He wasn't really too fucking sure what standards for child-rearing were in the middle of a goddamned apocalypse, so he was gonna have to play this by an ear. But he wanted as desperately as a motherfucker to have the kid trust him.

"Really?" The kid actually looked him in the eyes this time and the look on his face said it all. How scared he was. The uncertainty of what a shitstorm their life had become in just a single fucking day.

"Of-fucking-course." Negan said, waving a hand. He plucked up one of the apple sauce packets and looked at the happy - ahem, creepy - grinning apple. Fucking creepy. And kids were supposed to like this shit?

"I'm..." Logan searched for the words, face scrunched up in confusion as he struggled to find match the right words with his feelings. "Fine, I guess." Negan nodded solemnly, reaching over and ruffling the kid's hair gently. "Dad, my shitty day is turning into a shitty week."

"Yeah, kid." Negan chuckled around a smirk. "I'm thinking it's gonna be a shitty couple of weeks until this shit is straightened up."

* * *

Turns out the next several weeks saw no improvement of the rise of the walkers. There were signs in some places that the government had tried to hold back the proverbial flood (empty quarantine zones, abandoned tanks and army vehicles), but it appeared to be all for nothing. Looks like they were up shit creek without a fucking paddle.

The group continued on, place after place, scavenging what they could and resting where it was safe. Logan had gradually warmed up to the idea of traveling in a group, slowly opening up to the other men that had joined them. And they seemed to think the kid was a fucking riot. Between the salty language he had gotten from his father and the sassy attitude he had inherited from Lucille, the boy had won the other men's grudging acceptance, if not affection

He was also rather - ie, very fucking - useful. He was smaller and harder to spot by walkers then the adult men in the group, and he was getting stronger every day; growing steadily, even on a shitty diet of canned vegetables, cold tinned soup, and granola bars.

Negan did his best to make sure the boy ate as much as he wanted, even if he himself went hungry. And he tried to find some things that were healthier for the boy; dried or canned fruit or something besides half-melted candy bars. Sometimes there were stalemates of epic proportions where father and son wanted each other to eat, but neither wanted the other to starve.

Sometimes, compromises were made and they split it evenly, and sometimes Negan claimed he wasn't hungry and saved the food to foist on the kid later.

He wanted to make Lucille proud, wherever she was. He wanted protect Logan and provide for him. Their life and their home had been ripped from them and Negan wondered - not for the first time since the world fell - what would happen now.

Were they just fighting to survive or fighting to live? Would he live to see his son taken from him too? Or would it be the reverse and Logan would lose his father. Negan felt his stomach turn at the idea and he rubbed a hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

Prioritize this shit.

First, he had a group now. He didn't trust the assholes one hundred percent, but he knew they would not let him get chewed up by a bunch of goddamned walkers. He was strong and he knew the other men saw him as a good addition to the group. He knew Paul still felt like Logan was a fucking burden, but the kid was also proving hi worth daily, helping find food and water, keeping an eye out for threats, and helping scout new areas they came across.

Logan was safest with Negan. Maybe the others would try to protect the kid if it came down to it, but Negan was not willing to risk Logan's life with someone else. The kid stayed by his side pretty much at all times; Negan would go on a fucking warpath if the brat wasn't in eyeshot.

Paul wanted them to keep moving so they couldn't get pinned down by a great big fucking herd of walkers, and Negan could see the wisdom in that. With only five men and one kid, they didn't really make a very formidable group. It was best to keep on their toes and stay out of the way in case of large herds of biters or from other groups that would kill them and take their shit for their own.

Logan mewled and burrowed against his father's side and Negan put an arm around him, pulling him closer before he leaned against the window. The virginian country side flickered past as the SUV rumbled along.

Maybe one day they would find a place of their own to call home. A place they could defend and live in again, not just surivive. A place where Logan could be a kid again and Negan wouldn't have to watch him twenty-four-fucking-seven to protect him.

Maybe one day.

* * *

"As far as I can see, there may be a small town here where we can get some supplies, depending on how many walkers are concentrated there and if we have a good way in and out so we don't get cornered or ambushed." Brandon, a smart fucker who always wore a baseball cap pointed on a map spread out over the hood of the group's red SUV.

Next to him, Jason, a wiry shit that knew fucking everything, nodded and chewed on his lower lip, rubbing at the stubble decorating his lean jaw. Sitting on the top of the SUV, Logan was sharing some jerky he had found with Sid, the man he had grown closest to in their group.

Sid was a somewhat heavyset man with watery eyes and a cheerful disposition. He'd been an engineer at some point before the world turned. He cuffed the kid affectionately and took the offered jerky with a quiet thanks, gnawing on it as he cradled a shovel he always carried with him in the other.

Negan was relieved that Logan was starting to open up to the other members of their small group; the kid had been quiet and aloof since their talk at the Dairy Queen. Of course, the little shit was starting to talk more and more to his father, but the boy still wasn't the peppy little spitfuck he used to be when Lucille was alive.

Not that Negan blamed him at all. They were all having kind of a shitty time, what with the dead rising like some shitty horror story written by some shit hack author. Negan snorted and shrugged the idea off as quickly as it had fucking came. Nothing more he could do about it now.

"Put your hands in front of your tumies," Negan crowed, clapping his hands together as he waltzed over to where Paul stood, staring intently down the road, stick jammed firmly up his ass as per fucking usual. "I don't want the raging hard-ons this news is about to give you to cause any gut punches." He clapped Paul on the back, ignoring the man's glare and the way he shrugged off his hand. "Paul, looks like you could use a good hard-on. Don't let them go to waste at your age!" Nevermind the fact that Negan was older then the other man by at least five years. "Follow me." He gave Paul's shoulder a little shake, leaning close and grinning. "I found a place with clean beds."

"Really?!" Logan piped up, sitting up from where he lounged next to Sid on top of the SUV. "Beds!"

"Yes, indeedy, kiddo." Negan smirked, swiping his tongue over his teeth, clapping and then rubbing his hands together. "C'mon, this way. You'll shit your pants at what I found."

* * *

What Negan had found turned out to be some model mobile homes along a deserted stretch of highway outside of the town where they hoped to gather supplies. The whole area where the models sat was fenced in and the gates were chained.

Brandon was able to pick the lock and they drove the SUV through and chained the gates after them. Negan hadn't been inside the place, but he figured it'd be a stellar fucking idea. The chainlink fence would keep most walkers out and the homes themselves would hopefully deter most herds. Walkers tended to shuffle slowly around any obstacles in their way.

They did a quick run-down to check for walkers, only finding an employee or the owner of the place in the office. Sid cracked him a fucking good one with the shovel and then the group picked one of the larger mobile homes to bunk down for the night. Sid popped open the door with his shovel - Negan was starting to see why the huge fuck kept it around - and they braced a shelf against the door.

Negan flopped himself onto one of the couches, stretching his sore body out. He let out a loud 'omph' as Logan flopped onto his legs, cuddling against the stiff pillows and closing his eyes. Although father and son were still struggling with their communication issues, and still not quite seeing eye to fucking eye, Logan trusted him the most out of their group and always stuck close. If Negan wasn't there, the boy stayed with Sid.

Negan groaned as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his couch he reclined in was stiff as shit, but having something beside the floor to lay on was doing wonders for his back. He could almost feel each vertebrae singing his goddamned praises.

"Never thought I'd be fucking grateful for fucking rednecks. That's a fucking first."

* * *

 _"Are you nervous?"_

 _"Fuck no." Negan leaned back as well as he could in the stiff ass doctor's office chair, waiting for the man of the hour to finally make his goddamned appearance. He braced his hands behind his head, fingers intertwined together. "You, Lucy-baby?"_

 _"A little. This is a big step." Lucille chewed on her thumbnail, sitting on the paper shit doctors always put on the check out beds - what-the-fuck-ever they were called. "Do you really think we're ready for a baby?" Her other arm wrapped around her stomach, a habit she was starting to pick up. She wasn't showing right now, but her middle was starting to become a little firmer. It was strange, but exciting, as far as Negan was concerned._

 _"What's a matter? 'fraid the first word is gonna be fuck or shit?" Negan drawled, smirking at her with hooded eyes and propping his boots on the doctor's little swivel chair. He'd move when the fucker actually got here._

 _"I've already accepted that's what's gonna happen." Lucille chuckled dryly. Negan winked and reached over to gently shake her knee with one hand. "Being a parent is a big job, Negan.."_

 _"I know that, Lucy-baby. But you're gonna be the best Momma in the history of Mommas. I should make you a fucking trophy." Lucille smiled, ducking her head almost bashfully, her cheeks heating up in a way that made Negan want to throw her down and fuck her on the spot right then and there, doctor be damned. "We're gonna be just fucking fine."_

 _Lucille reached out and took his hand and Negan brought it to his mouth to place a kiss on her knuckles._

 _"I love you."_

 _"I know." Negan grinned._

 _"Star Wars freak."_

 _"Who doesn't fucking love Star Wars?"_

* * *

Several days later found the small group huddled under the large roof of a gas station, sitting near the pumps and watching the rain come pouring down. Logan sat on the hood of the group's SUV, munching on a bag of doritos he had found in the gas station.

Paul and Negan stood nearby, talking while they watched the rain come down like a motherfucker. It was getting colder with the rain, so Negan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"What about you, Negan? Did you guys lose anyone?" Paul asked, resting his bat on his shoulder. His voice was suprisingly soft. His gaze shifted from Negan to Logan with something like fucking sympathy, a fucking first from the usually stern and austere man.

Logan shoved another dorito into his mouth and frowned, pretending he didn't hear them, but the way he grit his jaw meant Paul's questions had hit a fucking nerve. Even now, months after, he had not said a word about Lucille. The one and only time he had talked about her was the day she had died.

"Me and the brat?" Negan asked, jabbing at the kid with his thumb. "Nah. It's always just been the two of us. And he's a bit of a drama queen." Logan promptly flipped him off and Negan chuckled. "So no.. not really, nope." He shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "None of that shit matters now."

"What makes you say that, Negan?" Paul asked, raising a brow. Negan wasn't entirely fucking sure what brought about this goddamned heart to heart with the other man. Paul was never really one to talk about the past, but maybe the bastard was just feeling nostalgic. Negan would humor the fucker a little.

"Can't change shit in your past, Paul. Any-fucking-ways, no chick flick moments."

* * *

 _"So.." A pair of arms found their way around Negan's chest as he stared at the blurry grey and white toned ultrasound picture now held in place on their fridge by magnets. "How do you feel about a little boy, Daddy?" Lucille smiled against his back and Negan found his own lips twitching up on their own accord, feeling a joy like he'd never felt before well up in his chest as he looked at the tiny image of his son._

 _"He looks like a goddamned peanut." He chuckled, saying the first thing that came to his fucking mind._

 _"Our little peanut." Lucille grinned against his back, giving him an affectionate squeeze, before leaning up to kiss his cheek. She was forced to stand on her tip-toes to compensate for the difference in height between them._

 _"Fucking hell, Lucy-lu. I can't fucking believe it." Negan murmured, reaching up with one hand to trace his fingers over the grainy image, moving them over the faint shape the ob/gyn had told them was their baby._

 _"I know." She said, moving to stand beside him and leaning against his arm, her head on his bicep. "It feels more real actually being able to see him."_

 _"Just five more months, Lucy-baby." Negan smiled, turning to face her, wrapping his arms around her and grinning. He found that he just couldn't fucking stop himself. He hadn't felt this excited about something since Lucille said yes to his proposal, or they got married. This was a huge step for them, but he was ecstatic._

 _"Then you can start teaching him swear words and baseball as soon as he pops out." Lucille grinned, eyes glimmering teasingly. Negan chuckled throatily and pressed a kiss to her lips._

 _"That's the fucking plan, doll."_

* * *

Negan scowled to himself as the group moved slowly on, scavenging what they could and hunting when they were desperate. He had been tracking the days, committing them to fucking memory; maybe one day the fucking date would actually matter again.

Wait.. Negan counted the days in his head again, sitting in the back while Paul drove up front and Brandon sat next to him. Fuck. It was September. September twenty-sixth. Logan's birthday. He looked over to see kid sitting near the window on the opposite side of the SUV, watching the trees go by with his chin resting in his hand. Poor little shit looked bored out of his mind.

Holy shit balls, he had fucking forgot. Well, not really forgot. He'd just been a little preoccupied. Fuckity fuck fuck. He'd have to do something. Find the kid something special.

They stopped at small shopping center in some podunk town that Negan didn't even bother remembering the name of. Logan was left on top of the car with some binoculars to watch for walkers or other survivors. He was expected to honk the horn short and quick multiple times if the group was needed.

While the group slowly dispersed to search for supplies, Negan jogged away to find Logan's gift, heading to the music store at the very end of the line. Pushing open the door and holding a tire iron, Negan poked his head into the shop, reaching up to click on his pack flashlight.

Looking around, he spotted no walkers, so he gave a series of whistles, long and drawn out. There was a shuffling sound in the back of the store, and two walkers came stumbling out of the darkness and into the beam of Negan's flashlight. In life, they were most likely the store's employees, with shirts with the store's logo and fucking khakis, but in death they were just smelly dead fuckers.

Two whacks with the tire iron and they went down, one after the other. They landed on the floor of the shop with meaty thuds, and Negan let out another whistle to draw out any other walkers.

Nothing but silence.

Satisfied, Negan continued on, perusing the shelves, the tire iron resting on his shoulder and dripping brackish gore behind him. He came to one shelf which held some cassette players, and he tilted his head, mulling it over, tongue tucked into his cheek.

He picked it up, looking over the packaging before he nodded, grabbing some packs of batteries next, which he shoved into his pockets.. Waltzing over to the next shelf, Negan began to browse through the cassettes. He tucked as many as he could into his backpack; Metallica, AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, and Def Leppard.

Smirking and satisified, Negan turned on his heel, whistling a jaunty tune as he strolled out the store, slapping his hand on the bell on the check out counter before closing the door behind him.

Making his way back to the group, Negan took a lean against the SUV. He looked up at Logan, who was still sitting on the top of the vehicle, binoculars still up. He'd give the little shit the credit; he took his job seriously.

"Hey, brat."

"Hey, Dad." Logan turned to look down at him, still looking through the binoculars. Negan rolled his eyes.

"Put those down for a fucking second." The kid did as he asked and Negan smiled slightly, digging into his bag and holding out the walkman and batteries to the brat.

Logan stared at them, stunned for a moment, before he took them from his father. Negan then fished out the cassettes he had gotten, handing them up too.

"What're these for?" Logan asked, letting the items drop into his lap. He picked at the corner of the walkman's packaging with one hand, watching his father curiously.

"It's your birthday today, kiddo." The boy blinked at him, looking confused as shit. "Yeah, you still get birthdays in the middle of a goddamned apocalypse. Why? Because I am the best fucking dad ever, that's fucking why." Negan reached up and gently rested a hand on Logan's knee, giving it a gentle shake. "Happy birthday, Logan." He said softly, looking regretfully up at his son. "I'm sorry I can't do more for ya."

"It's fucking awesome, Dad." Logan said, jumping up and leaping at his father. Negan laughed as he caught him, staggering back a few steps under the kid's weight.

"Goddamn, you are getting heavy." Negan groused good-temperedly, before setting the boy down. "I'm glad you like it. You should learn what good fucking music is." He said, with a chuckle and a wink.

Logan grinned and nodded, before climbing back onto the hood of the SUV. He returned to his place on the top of the car, using his knife he always carried with him to open the cassette player, cutting away from himself. He pried the plastic casing apart before plucking the walkman out.

Negan watched him turn it over in his hands, before taking the batteries and placing them in the cassette player. Pulling himself up onto the hood of the SUV, Negan kept one eye on the kid and one on the road, deciding to wait for the rest of the guys to come back from whatever the fuck they were doing.

"Which one should I try first?" Logan asked, perusing his new cassette collection with a grin, looking excited for something for the first time in over a month.

"Led goddamned Zeppelin. Fucking definitely."

"Cool." Logan smiled, opening the pack of batteries. He fiddled with the cassette, his smile fading and brows furrowing as he concentrated on his task. Once done, he unrolled the headphones that came with the walkman and plugged them in. But the kid hesitated, looking at Negan uncertainly.

"What's up, brat?" Negan asked, feeling a little fucking worried that the boy was changing his mind about the gift; he felt disappointed, like he had failed or some shit and it fucking hurt. "Do you not fucking like it?"

"No, no, it's fucking awesome." The kid actually fucking hugged him of his own volition, squeezing Negan as much as he could. Shit, he could tell the kid was going to be strong. "I was just wondering if I could ask you a question, Dad? About Momma?"

"Sure thing, kiddo." Negan forced down a lump in his fucking throat. "She's, was, your Momma. Ya don't have to ask me fucking permission to talk about her or ask me something."

"Thanks, Dad." Logan chewed on his lower lip for a second, struggling to find words for his thoughts. "What kinda music did Momma like?" He held up the Led Zeppelin tape for example. Negan chuckled, leaning back a bit with a whining chuckle and thinking it over while he bit his tongue in thought.

"She liked the really goddamned cheesy seventies and eighties shit. But she did like the good shit too." It was part of the reason he loved her; she didn't hide who she was and her guilty pleasures. Memories of him and Lucille dancing to Journey brought a barely-there smile to Negan's face. Not that Journey was cheesy; it was fucking Journey, but she loved shit like Heart or Earth, Wind, and Fire.

"I think I remember her playing me some." Logan moved his feet as he watched the road, smiling at some memory Negan was not part of. Even if the pain was there, there was something soothing about talking about Lucille with so much fucking love and adoration. "And something about dance magic."

"Of-fucking-course, she'd corrupt you with David fucking Bowie." Not that Negan minded; David Bowie was fucking awesome. It was better then Michael fucking Jackson. He drew the line at the goddamned King of fucking Pop. "Maybe I can find more cassettes for you, kiddo."

"Really?" Logan looked absolutely fucking ecstatic, looking at his father with a hopeful expression. Goddamned those little puppy-dog eyes. How in the fuck did they fucking work on him that well?

"Of-fucking-course. Don't you remember? I'm the best fucking dad ever." Negan said, throwing his hands up and grinning broadly.

"I think so." Negan swore he could feel something inside him break and mend together at that and he gently placed an arm around Logan, tugging the kid closer. To be completely fucking honest with himself, he wanted to hug the everloving shit outta the brat. To make things even fucking steven.

"Thanks, Logan. That means a shit ton to me." And fuck you, his voice did not crack on that. He just had something in his throat. Logan leaned against him, thumping his head against his dad's chest.

"You said it was you and me." The kid kept talking, but his eyes were focused on the road, where the sun was starting to set. The group would have to find shelter soon. If they could. It wasn't fucking safe out at night. "Momma would want us to work together. I have your back and you have mine. You and Momma worked together like that. She told me. So with her as an angel, I need to look after you."

Negan smiled, even as a sharp lance of pain went through his chest. It hurt like a motherfucker, but he didn't feel like it was as soul-tearing as it used to be, if only by a marginal fucking percent. He just squeezed his brat to him like he never wanted to fucking let go. And he never would.


	4. Chapter IV: Be Quick or Be Dead

**Author's Note** : Not much to say on this chapter, this chapter goes into some detail about pregnancy and birth stuff. Skip all the italics if you don't want to read. I was hoping to update sooner, but whatever. I'm hoping to update twice a week until I'm caught up with season eight, but that depends on my work schedule and some other shit I'm dealing with right now.

Edit: Minor extension to one flashback and fixed some tiny grammar issues.

 **gabrielsangel23** : Thank you very much for your review! I was (and still am) super excited and flattered that you enjoyed the last chapter and hope you continue to enjoy. I am rather fond of Supernatural despite it having its issues. I can't wait to tackle later canon material, especially Sanctuary stuff. Thanks again!

 **C. E. W** : Yeah, Negan reproduced, everyone run. I thought it'd be something interesting to work with and it's been pretty fun. I rather like Steven Ogg, so I'd like to introduce Simon soon, but I won't be giving an exact chapter. :P Glad you find the story intriguing thus far. Hope I don't disappoint.

Chapter title and soundtrack is Be Quick or Be Dead by Iron Maiden.

* * *

Negan slammed the door of the SUV shut behind him, his eyes immediately searching for Logan's small form amongst the other men. The kid was trotting over to him while rolling up the headphones to his walkman, before stuffing it into a ziploc bag and shoving that into his hoodie pocket.

He'd taken to doing that to protect the cassette player from blood, water, and other shit; the walkman was his most prized possession and Negan often caught sight of the boy cleaning it as well as he could.

The boy loved the cassette player and Negan was pleased as fucking punch to see that Logan liked it. He'd listen to it almost constantly; Negan would often hear the faint sounds of Led Zeppelin filter from the headphones. The band seemed to be the kid's fucking favorite and the song he seemed to gravitate the most to was Stairway to Heaven.

Negan wondered vaguely if the kid was getting sick of listening to the same fucking songs over and over again. Maybe he could find more cassettes for the him? The kid would love that shit. Per-fucking-haps, Negan would find him some more varieties, and not just the classic rock that Negan himself favored; let the kid figure out his own likes and shit.

The slamming of the from the SUV's front doors broke him from his thoughts and he looked up from Logan to meet Paul's gaze. They had come to an abandoned neighborhood to scavenge for more supplies. Good thing, Negan's clothes were in desperate need of being replaced and Logan's jeans were rapidly becoming capres on him as he hit another growth spurt.

Negan rolled his shoulders to loosen up before he set off, holding the tire iron he had decided to hold on to. It worked and was durable, so he had no complaints. As he was about to walk off as the group started setting out to scavenge a greater area, a voice stopped him.

"Dad, can I come with you?" Logan looked up at him hopefully, already fiddling with his kitchen knife he used as a weapon of choice. Negan blinked and quirked a brow, obviously a bit fucking hesitant to bring the boy along. It wasn't a fucking walk in the goddamned park smelling the motherfucking roses.

"This isn't a fucking field trip, Lo."

"I know. I was hoping you could teach me to fight walkers." Negan's other brow went up to join the first one and he was rendered speechless for a second; a goddamned rarity. They were lucky they were in the middle of a fucking apocalypse or he would be pretty concerned about his lack of response. Usually his mouth ran way ahead of his brain.

"You want me to teach my fucking eight year-old boy how to fight undead pricks." It was not a question, he just wanted to make sure he heard the brat right. And to make sure the kid wasn't pulling his motherfucking leg.

"Yeah." The kid had the balls to look a bit annoyed that his dad was slow on the fucking uptake. "I wanna know how to not die."

"Fair e-fucking-nough."

"Yeah, I know. It's like it's a good idea." Logan said, flashing a very Negan-like grin. Negan found himself quickly smirking in response, thoroughly amused by the goddamned turn this conversation had taken.

"Alright, kid, don't get cocky."

"I think this is the first time in forever you don't want to talk about dicks." Holy fucking shit, the kid was on a goddamned roll today.

"Fucking hell." Negan ran a hand over his face, stroking the beard he was now forced to grow out. "Follow me, then, Lo. We'll see what you can fucking do."

* * *

Negan walked down the abandoned street lined on either side with empty houses, some with cars still in their drives and others with clothes and items strewn about the unkempt yards.

He and Lucille had lived in a neighborhood like this, with an HOA and a park down the road; it brought back bittersweet memories of weekends spent at BBQs with their next door neighbors, Halloween decorations that scared the shit out of the suberb kids, and Christmas lights that got more and more extreme each passing year.

Logan trailed after him as they went to the first house on the road, practicing his whistling. He was slowly, but surely starting to get it, making more actual fucking whistles and less raspberry sounds.

Negan tested the door on the first house on the road and found it unlocked; it wasn't even latched - the wind must've blown it near close or the family had been in a big motherfucking hurry and didn't close it properly. He winked at Logan and pushed open the door, stepping inside the small, dusty entrance hall and looking around at the gloomy and still house.

Once Logan had stepped up behind him and shut the door, Negan started with a whistle, long and high-pitched. He leaned against the opening between the kitchen and livingroom as a shuffling sound and a series of thumps came from down the hall.

The shambling form of a walker woman, dressed in a nightgown and with a big ol' fucking chunk out of her shoulder stumbled down the corridor, rasping and snarling.

"Ohhhh-ho-ho. Shhiiiit, darlin', you look like a hot damn mess." Negan chuckled, biting at his lower lip and giving a whining chuckle. He patted Logan on the shoulder, letting him know he'd take this one. "Next one is yours, sport. Just watch and fucking learn from the master."

"So you're a master walker killer?" Logan said, looking nervously up at his father and clutching his knife anxiously. "I've only seen you get maybe ten."

"Po-fucking-tayto-po-fucking-tahto." Negan simpered with a wink. "You have a fucking hard-on for semantics, kiddo." Giving Logan's shoulder a reassuring final squeeze, Negan took a step forwards and brought the tire iron up.

However, he went about it a little fucking differently then he normally would. This was a goddamned teaching experience after all. And while Negan was a fuck-up in a whole fucking lot of fields, guiding and teaching the younger generation was one thing he did really enjoy.

"Since you're shorter, Lo, you'll want to kick the shit outta their knee, like fucking so." With a crunch, his boot met the walker's knee and it staggered, the leg giving out beneath its rotting host and dropping the walker to the floor. "Then give the beautiful contestant here a fucking tender little love tap." Negan then swung the tire iron into the biter's head, smashing it like a goddamned melon. "Easy-peasy fucking lemon-squeezy." He grinned, setting the tire iron on his shoulder. "Alright, kiddo. You're up."

"Kick and hit?" Logan asked, gripping his knife in a trembling hand. He moved the other one to hold it steady and gulped, trying to calm himself down.

"Yes indeed-y." Negan smirked, leaning on the kitchen bar as another walker made its appearance, this one dressed in jeans and missing most of his arm. "Kick the everloving shit outta him and then hit." Negan jerked his head towards the biter as it ambled slowly over with all the grace of a drunk elephant. "Have fucking at it."

"Okay..." Logan mumbled, not looking too sure of himself now as he took a shy step forwards. Negan gently patted his shoulder, trying his best to be reassuring, but not coddle the brat. The kid was right, he had to learn this shit and learn it fucking lickity split, there wasn't room for him not to.

"I'll be right behind you, Lo. You got this shit." Probably not the most motivational of speeches, but he had confidence in the boy. Logan just needed to dig down deep and come out of the box fucking swinging.

The walker's raspy 'breathing' became louder as it drew closer, its dead, hollow eyes locked onto Negan and Logan as they stood in the entry way. Its attention seemed to zero in when the kid stepped forwards, and the only remaining arm it had lifted to reach for the boy with stiff, grasping fingers.

Logan leaned all his weight into a kick, hitting as hard as he fucking could. Negan almost felt sorry for the dead prick as it staggered and collapsed into the wall with a gurgling growl. The kid raised his knife, but hesitated, taking a step back and looking at his father before he lunged forwards and stabbed the walker through the eye.

He stumbled back just as quickly, leaving the knife embedded in the gushing eye socket (that was now oozing some gross ass dark maroon shit). The boy rushed over to the trashcan in the corner and promptly heaved into it. Negan sighed softly, before following after him, rubbing Logan's back gently.

"It's okay, kiddo." He rumbled softly, trying to be as soothing as he could. As mature as Logan could be, he was still a fucking kid, and a young one at that. This was a big fucking step for anyone. "You did fucking good, Lo. Just take a breath."

The boy nodded and spat the rest of his stomach contents up, looking pale and like there still might be another round of puke in him. Negan reached over and grabbed a towel from near the sink, handing it over, before checking to see if any other walkers were coming out of the goddamned woodwork. The house was completely silent, almost eerily fucking so.

"Sorry, Dad." Logan's soft voice turned Negan's attention directly back to him and the man shook his head, waving the apology away.

"No, no, no. You did fucking awesome, kiddo." He kneeled down to Logan's level, looking him over to make sure he was alright; the boy looked shaken and still a little fucking green, but he was starting to calm down little by little. "You're a tough little shit, you know that, right?"

"R-really?"The brat blinked at him, looking a bit confused, but the bafflement was giving way to pride in himself. Good, the peppy little spitfuck deserved it.

"Really really." Negan stood up with a groan, his knees screaming almost as much profanties as he did on a daily basis, and ruffled Logan's hair. It was starting to get longer and was getting wilder and shaggier almost every second, like Cousin Itt. He'd see if the boy wanted it trimmed up or left alone later; he had some scissors in his pack somewhere. "Do you want your knife back?"

"No, no, no!" The kid took a step back and held up his hands, looking a little panicked. "He can keep it." Negan chuckled and jerked his head towards the hall the two walkers had stumbled down.

"Alright. Let's see if the mister and fucking missus have anything you can borrow." The two made their way down the hall to the bedroom, which looked like the couple had been in the middle of packing their shit when they got jumped.

The dilapidated body of a dead walker was in the corner, its head smashed in with a lamp. Splashes of dried brown blood was splattered around the floor and bedding. "Shit." Negan mused, poking the motionless walker with the tire iron. "Fucker must've taken 'em by fucking surprise."

"We should be careful when we go through the other houses." Logan gazed at the corpse intently, before looking back down the hall where the two slumped forms of the downed walkers lay. "At least they were together, right?"

Negan swallowed heavily against a sudden lump in his fucking throat. "Y-yeah, kiddo. Would suck balls to get bit and die alone." He shook himself off, trying to push away the feelings that threatened to cling to his bones and weigh him down with fucking emotions he could not deal with right fucking now. Instead, he focused on looting the walk-closet, letting Logan look through the rest of the room.

In the back of the closet, half hidden by the woman's sundresses and easy to miss unless one was fucking searching for it, was a hunting rifle propped against the wall. Negan reached forwards and grabbed it by the hand guard near the barrel, pulling it up to look at it. It was a little fucking beaten-up, but other then that it was well-cared for.

"Can you teach me to shoot?" The question broke Negan from his thoughts and he turned around, setting down his tire iron to hold the rifle with both hands. His gaze fell on Logan who stood in front of him. The kid was looking at him intently, head slightly tilted in a way that reminded Negan of a pup.

"Why?" Negan felt the corner of his mouth quirk ever-so-fucking-slightly upwards as he looked down at the boy, raising a brow.

"Wouldn't it be a good idea to learn?" The kid asked and Negan snorted softly at the no-bullshit tone the little brat had. Jesus, he sounded like his momma when he did that.

"Yeah. I'll teach ya, kiddo. Later." Negan nodded his head, reaching out to ruffle the kid's shaggy hair. Logan smiled and playfully pushed his dad's hand away, grumbling swears under his breath. "What's the fucking attitude for?" Negan teased. "I'll teach ya. Can be a father-son experience for us. Bonding and shit."

"Sure, dad." This sassy little shit. "Wanna see what I found before we leave and have our bonding and shit?" Negan chuckled and nodded, waving one hand before picking the rifle up again.

Logan led him over to the nightstand, where the drawer was open. Inside were a couple of hunting knives. The kid held one of the knives up so Negan could take a closer look and the man did, leaning the rifle against a dresser and taking the knife from the boy. It was a large hunting knife. It looked bad-fucking-ass, with a dark brown handle that looked almost black. Negan slipped it out of its sheath, inspecting the gleaming edge.

"I think it's a little too big for me. I think it fits you better." Negan looked over to see Logan picking up one of the smaller ones, all matte black with a silver edge. "And they look better then kitchen knives."

"That they fucking do, kiddo." Negan said, looking the knife Logan had handed him over and feeling pleased; the kid had found it with him in mind and that felt pretty fucking special. "Good job." He ruffled Logan's hair affectionately, before handing the black hunting knife back over. "You picked a good one."

"I can keep it?" The kid tilted his head and gave him the fucking puppy-dog eyes again.

"Unless you want your old one?" Negan nodded, starting to buckle the hunting knife Logan had picked out for him to his right. It had its own specialized belt and he buckled it under his old one.

Before Logan could respond, from down the hall came the sound of the door being slowly creaked open. Negan and Logan looked up in unison as the sound of stumbled steps filtered down the hallway and the sound of rasping growls reached their ears.

"Looks like we're gonna have some more fucking hands on learning, kiddo." Negan growled lowly, slipping the new hunting knife from its sheath at his hip. He heard Logan doing the same at his side, the kid looking close to pissing himself. "You just keep fucking behind me and make sure I don't fucking eat it." The boy nodded, steeling himself for the oncoming fight.

The hallway and the door to the bedroom would hopefully funnel a large group of walkers into more managable numbers by keeping it relatively one on fucking one.

Negan pushed the door open more to see a group of seven walkers shambling through the open front door and three more beyond that milling in the driveway. The walkers dead eyes settled on the two and after a second or two, they started stumbling closer, growling and gurgling hungrily.

The first one was a woman with lank hair that might've been blonde and dressed in a filthy denim jacket. In life, she had been a knock-out before a walker ripped into her face and turned her. Negan batted her grasping hands away and stabbed her in the forehead as she snapped her jaws together mindlessly.

The walker behind her - a fat man in a t-shirt with his insides hanging on the outside - grabbed at the sleeve of Negan's jacket. Negan braced himself before trying to shove the fat fucker away, but the bastard wouldn't budge. Negan ripped the knife out of the dead woman's skull and brought it up through the fat fuck's lower jaw, up through his mouth and into his brain, dropping him too. Negan swore he felt the earth shake. Five more to go and the hall was starting to get a little full.

Shit fuck, shit fuck, shit fuck.

* * *

 _Shit fuck, shit fuck, shit fuck._

 _Negan grabbed the two dufflebags that he and Lucille had fucking prepared ahead of time for this shit and slung them both over his shoulders, grabbing his car keys, cell phone, and the folder of hospital shit Lucille needed._

 _His fucking heart was going a mile a goddamned minute and he was going over what else he needed to grab for their three AM run to the hospital. Spare changes of clothes for him and Lucille, a blanket and pillows, tioletry kit, snacks and drinks, shoes, all sorts of fucking shit that Lucille had packed. She'd been in charge of all that shit and Negan had only done what she asked. Whatever made the pregnant lady happy was quickly becoming a better and fucking better idea._

 _"You ready, Lucy-baby?" He asked her, glancing over where she was sitting in one of their diningroom chairs._

 _"Are you? You look like you're gonna have a heart-attack, love." She teased, heaving herself up. Negan immediately rushed over to help, grumbling halfheartedly at her for not letting him help her. "You're cute when you're protective, Ne."_

 _"Of-fucking-course, I am." Negan said, giving a smile he didn't really feel and walking her towards the front door, turning the lights off as they went. The neighborhood was dark and quiet as he and Lucille walked slowly to the car._

 _"Of course your kid would come at three in the morning." Lucille teased him after a groan, jabbing him in the side with her elbow. He opened the door and she shooed him away, buckling her seat belt and reaching to close her door behind_ her.

 _"He'll settle down in a bit." Negan replied, leaning over to press a kiss to Lucille's messily tied back hair. "Might just be a fucking false alarm." He said, starting the car and driving quickly down the road._

 _"I don't think so, Negan." Lucille said, gripping the arm rest and the handle near the door look, her face getting a pinched, pained look. "Feels pretty much like the real thing to me." She cracked an eye open as Negan sped down the road. "Slow down, babe." She smirked at him and quirked a brow, amusement thick in her tone and dancing in her warm pale eyes._

 _"I'll fucking slow down when we get there, Lucy-baby, but I have a goddamned feeling it's gonna be like last time." Lucille chuckled, reaching up with one hand to gently grab his free hand as he drove. There was virtually no traffic, but Lucille's hand on his kept tightening occasionally, building along with her loud groans of pain._

 _"Just don't get us pulled over." Lucille grumbled as another contraction hit, her breathing getting more labored, putting Negan even more on a goddamned edge then he already fucking was._

 _"Cop pulls me over and I'm kicking his goddamned ass all the way across the fucking street." They reached the hospital in goddamned record time; the lot in front of the sprawling building was empty._

 _Negan helped Lucille out of the car and she was very nearly crying from the pain, biting her lip and making strained sounds like a hurt animal. Every time he offered to pick her up, she just glared and told him to go fuck himself, pissed the hell off he hadn't kept it in his pants and fucking did this to her._

 _The doors whooshed open and Lucille immediately hobbled over to sit in the waiting area while Negan checked them in. The elderly lady handling the front desk seemed pretty goddamned amused by his barely restrained panic and Lucille's death glares aimed at his back._

 _About fifteen fucking minutes later, Lucille was being wheeled away by a nurse, the both of them_ _talking about how_ _things were going. Negan trailed after them with the fucking dufflebags still on his shoulders and the car keys clenched in one hand._

 _Lucille was quickly settled into a triage room, where they checked over the baby's heart rate and measured Lucille's contractions and checked her cervix; heart rate good and the contractions were steady and she was dilating. What the everloving fuck did they mean by dilating?_

 _Lucille looked amused as Negan tried not to trip up the nurses or get in their way, torn between wanting to be close to his wife, but not in the hospital staff's way and thinking some of this freaky ass shit was way too fucking personal, and he'd been married to Lucille since they were twenty. He was into some kinky goddamned shit, but this seemed to be pushing some goddamned boundaries._

 _At least she didn't look like she wanted to fucking castrate him with a goddamned spoon now. They were then moved to a delivery room and Negan stood as fucking awkward as a goddamned nudist in church, watching as the nurse helped Lucille into a hospital gown and into bed, hooking her up to a machine to keep track of the baby's heart rate._

 _It felt like fucking days as Negan waited in the hospital. Lucille had told him to get lost - more or less - and he found himself wondering the halls towards the cafeterria, thinking to himself about getting her some ice chips or some shit. Fuck, he had no goddamned clue what she needed him to do. He was just sitting around with his fucking thumb up his ass waiting for the baby to show up._

 _Negan rubbed at his eyes with one hand, wiping the dust from them and stifling a yawn as he sat next to Lucille's bed and waited with a goddamned thumb up his ass. The OB had come in to check on her already, stating things were going steadily, but very, very slowly. Negan kept nodding off, exhaustion weighing his shoulders down. He would help Lucille walk around the room whenever she wanted and was up to it, brought her ice chips, and rubbed her back and shoulders whenever she asked. Lucille would alternate between thanking him and swearing at him whenever he did something for her._

 _It was almost twenty-four hours later that their baby finally decided to make his fucking appearance. Negan looked down at the adorable, chubby as fuck infant nestled in Lucille's arms, with a head of dark hair and the smallest goddamned toes Negan had ever seen in his fucking life._

 _"Holy shitballs." Negan murmured, reaching over to tug the hospital blanket down to look at his child, his son. "He's-"_

 _"He's perfect." Lucille grinned tearfully down at their baby and Negan tightened his arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer to him._

 _"I was gonna say fucking chubby as fuck, but that works too, I guess." Negan smirked, leaning to press a kiss to Lucille's sweat-damp hair. "You made him goddamned good, honey."_

 _"You helped. A little." She teased, letting her head rest against his shoulder, her hair tickling his neck. "But yeah, let's say I did most of the work." She ran a finger over the baby's curled up little fists, smile growing even brighter as the infant curled his little hand around her finger, mewling wearily into her hospital gown. He wasn't the only fucking one who was sleepy._

 _"No fucking arguments there, Lucy-lu." Negan said, watching with rapt attention, soaking in every last goddamned detail of this moment. One of the happiest fucking moments of his entire fucking life. "What're we gonna call him?"_

 _"We talked about a few names."_

 _"Yeah, and could never fucking agree on any." Negan snorted softly, before grinning at the derpy, confused look the baby gave him at the sound. He reached over with one hand and gently touched the baby's cheek with one finger, feeling his goddamned heart swell in his chest. This tiny thing in front of him was... fucking perfect and fucking his. His and Lucille's. The only thing Negan knew he loved just as much was Lucille._

 _"Language." Lucille said, not even sounding like she fucking meant it. "Let's decide now. I don't want to be one of those people that leaves the hospital with their baby not named. That's weird. We've had plenty of time to think of something for him." She gently pressed a kiss to the baby's forehead, earning another adorably confused look from the chubby little shit._

 _"Negan junior."_

 _"Negan, be serious for one second, please."_

 _"I am. Negan goddamned junior." He grinned as Lucille elbowed him in the chest before leaning close again and placing another kiss to her forehead. "Fine, fucking fine, you pick then."_

 _"You won't argue with me?" Lucille looked up at him doubtfully, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth._

 _"To be fucking honest, I'd love to make another fucking baby with you, darlin'." He winked, earning a eyeroll from her before she continued, gently shifting the baby to hold him more closely against her._

 _"Logan."_

 _"Like goddamned Wolverine?" Negan snickered, earning another jab to the chest from Lucille's bony as fuck elbows. Goddamn, he'd have to learn to move away from her before mocking her eventually._

 _"No, like my grandfather, jackass."_

 _"Who needs to watch their language now." Negan teased back as Lucille glared at him; fuck she looked gorgeous mad. "I'm down with that." He said, gentling his voice as apology for being a colassal prick, but a tiger couldn't change its stripes no more then Negan could. "Logan fucking works."_

 _"Logan Dean. Dean for your grandfather. I knew he meant a lot to you, Ne." Lucille's voice was soft and Negan found it impossible to swallow around the lump in his throat now. He shook himself off, physically, but emotionally it remained, hovering over him like a goddamned cloud even as he tried to buck the fuck up. He blamed it on how fucking tired he was. That was it. He'd be less of pussy with a full night's sleep and nerves fully intact._

 _One of Lucille's hands grabbed his and Negan nodded, not able to find the fucking words. She was right, she was always right about him and she goddamned knew it. Lucille always knew what mattered most to him and how to help him realize it even when he was too busy being a bastard._

 _"Logan Dean sounds bad ass to me, sweetheart."_

 _"Thank you, Negan." Lucille leaned and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. Negan pulled her a little bit closer, still looking down at their son with complete fucking adoration. "The next boy, we'll name Negan junior."_

 _"I'll hold you to that, Lucy-baby."_

* * *

"Dad!" Logan's voice startled him and he quickly looked towards the kid to see what the fuck was up. He couldn't risk taking his attention off the approaching walkers too long. " We could bar the door and try the window!" The kid said, pointing to the dresser off to one side.

Mind flashing over the possibilites, Negan nodded and grabbed the dresser, reaching around the back to heave it away from the wall. Once done with that, he and Logan dashed around to the other side and shoved it in front of the open door. With fat fuck and the lady in denim blocking the doorway, they couldn't close it.

Negan then seized the rifle and shoved the knife back in its sheath as Logan climbed on the bed and ripped the curtains back. He threw them to the floor and reached to open the blinds. The window was tossed open and Negan used the butt of the rifle to smash the screen down.

The group of walkers stumbled into the hallway, their grey grasping fingers like goddamned talons reaching for him and his son. Logan bit back a whine of fear as Negan poked his head out into the side of the house. They were on the right side of the fence and no walkers were in immediate sight or hearing.

"Alright, kiddo, tuck and fucking roll." Negan commanded, grabbing the kid and pushing him out the fucking window. The boy let out a startled yelp as he hit the ground, but clambered to his feet, dazed but unharmed. Negan stepped up ont the bed next, just as the walkers managed to shove the dresser out of the way. "Fucking shit!"

Logan looked up at him with complete terror, frozen in fear. Negan tossed the rifle out and then climbed through the window, but cold, boney hands on his leg stopped him, then started pulling him back. Snarling and swearing, he lashed out, kicking and thrashing with all his strength. Logan grabbed his hand and pulled with all his might.

The grip on his leg weakened and then slipped off and Negan toppled forwards, almost landing on the kid as he fell through the fucking window like a goddamned half-assed burgler.

Immediately, he scrambled to his feet, looking at his leg. There wasn't any pain to signify he was bitten, but with his adrenalin pumping this hard, he had to be sure. There was no tears in his jeans, no blood, only what promised to be a bruise where the walker had grabbed him from how his muscle ached.

Heaving a breath of relief, Negan helped haul Logan up, pushing him along as the two ran from the house. The kid had taken his knife out again, and immediately kicked the shit out of the closest walker, hitting it in the ankle and sending it tumbling to the ground. The boy lunged and dug the knife into the creature's eye, giving it its final death.

Negan growled, using the main body of the rifle to push another advancing walker away before smacking the ever-loving-shit out of it with the butt of the gun. He did the same to the next, and then slung the rifle over his shoulder to grab his knife. He slammed it up to the hilt into the walker's head, making it fall to the ground with a meaty thud.

The sound of a rasping growl came from behind him and Negan whipped around, stabbing a knife through the creature's jaw and taking it down. He ripped the knife away, taking the walker's lower jaw clean off and stabbing it through the temple.

He looked up to see Logan taking a running leap up onto a biter, gripping its shoulder as he stabbed it over and over again in the skull until the biter hit the ground. Logan's face was speckled with brackish blood as he staggered to his feet, panting heavily.

"You alright, Lo?" Negan asked, kneeling down to wipe the black blood on one of the walker's deteoriating clothing. Logan nodded, still panting as he took a seat on the nearby curb of a driveway. Negan ran a hand over his face, smearing some of the walker blood across his face and into his beard. "You did fucking good, kiddo."

They were fucking lucky it wasn't a big herd, or they would've been completely fucked. Negan heaved a deep goddamned sigh as he looked around to make sure no more walkers were making their way towards them. He knew more lurked about the neighborhood, hiding in darkened houses that once belonged to them, stuck. He almost felt sorry for the undead fucks.

"Are we gonna keep going or head back?" Negan blinked as he looked over to where Logan sat on the curb, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at his father questioningly.

"Do you wanna keep searching, Lo?" Negan asked, mulling over the idea. Was it really worth looking for more shit, if it meant putting the kid in danger? They needed the supplies, but taking Logan with him was dangerous. But fuck, life was dangerous now. It was selfish of him, perhaps not even fucking sane, to want to keep the kid at his side, where he felt the boy was the safest. Even if that meant dragging the poor kid along while he looted houses.

"We need to." The kid shrugged, accepting that things were what they were, fucking plain and goddamned simple. Neither of them could change that single shitty fact of their complicated as fuck life now. Logan wiped the blade of his new black hunting knife in the grass he sat by, leaving dark streaks against the green.

"Yeah." Negan managed gruffly. "We fucking need to." He jerked his head and Logan climbed to his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels.

* * *

The two slowly but surely moved from one hose to the next. Most often the doors were locked so Negan and Logan concentrated on those for the moment, feeling that their goddamned chances were a little less goddamned if the house was properly secured.

Negan would whistle loudly once they had entered a house - just in case -and that would usually draw whatever walkers there were to them so there wouldn't be any fucking nasty surprises laying in goddamned wait. But most houses were completely abandoned by their former owners and stood empty and quiet as tombs. It put Negan right on fucking edge.

Logan seemed to find it equally goddamned creepy and would stick close to his father's side, his whole smaller body tense and ready for fight or fucking flight. Not for the first time, Negan wondered how this kid had started to adjust to this world so well. The kid was a warrior at heart, a fighter.

Several of the houses were homes to families with pictures of un-fucking-familiar faces of smiling people still hanging on some of the walls; some had been taken as the families fled, but others keepsakes and valuables of sentimental nature had been taken with the fleeing families wherever the fuck they went.

Negan wondered if maybe he should have taken something from their home, of Lucille and the life they had built together. A part of him knew it was foolish and a little silly to take goddamned pictures, when food, water, and clothing were far more important. You could try eating your goddamned family album, but the results wouldn't be that fucking nice. He brushed the painful thoughts away, shrugging it like a weight off his shoulders and waving away the look of concern that Logan threw his way.

"Let's try and find you some new fucking threads, kiddo." Negan said, shoving some canned soup and veggies into his bag and trying to ignore the inanimate eyes of the picture of the family they were now looting staring at him from the fridge.

"Fuck yes." Logan said, obviously fucking pleased at the idea. They moved from room to room together, picking up whatever looked useful; batteries, a flashlight, a first aid kit, even a box of fucking bandaids would be extremely fucking useful.

They made their way up the stairs and down a hall where more pictures of a man, his wife, and three smiling kids hung. Negan's thoughts once more flashed to Lucille, to picturesque ideas of what could have been if her cancer had been beaten or never goddamned happened in the first place. Would more kids had been in their future? Maybe a little girl with Lucille's wavy brown curls. Negan shook the idea off as quickly as it had come, trying to shove the pain down deep.

Logan had been entirely unplanned, but he had ended up being the kick in the ass Negan needed to get his fucking head on straight. He would never fucking ever become his fucking father. Fuck that shit.

"Hey, Dad?" Negan looked up from where he was staring at the picture of the family that used to live here in the home. "What the fuck is Pink Floyd?"

Negan chuckled, shaking his head as he moved away, his gaze falling to the small t-shirt the kid held up in two hands.

"Fuck son, you're gonna learn some shit today."

* * *

They made it back to their group loaded up with new clothes and food, splattered in dark walker blood and covered in sweat. Paul was pretty pleased that they had managed to find some good supplies, even congratulating Logan on his hard work.

Logan had beamed at the praise, even though he was obviously running on fumes; any praise from a hardass like Paul was something to fucking grin about. Negan used to have a coach who was very fucking much the same way; sparing with kind words, but when he did give them, Negan felt like he had a ten foot dick.

Rolling his eyes somewhat, Negan opened the trunk to the SUV and pushed around some supplies, looking for a towel and some water in order to clean the fucking blood and shit off their faces. Logan sat in the back seat with the door propped open wiping walker blood off on one of his old shirts that was too fucking small for him now.

Negan found a water bottle and a washcloth tucked in the back and he poured a bit of water onto the cloth as he walked around the back of the SUV to where Logan was perched on the edge of his seat.

"Here, kiddo." Negan said, handing the boy the washcloth. "Wipe your face off and take fucking five, Lo." He said, looking over his shoulder as Sid and Brandon came back from their run, holding some laundry baskets of shit they found. Sid raised a brow, at Logan and Negan's disheveled appearances. Negan shook his head at him before running a rough hand over his face, feeling exhaustion starting to weigh down on his shoulders.

"You boys alright?" Sid asked eventually as he and Brandon started stowing things in the trunk. He leaned against the SUV and folded his arms, looking at Negan with a half-smile on his face.

"Yeah, me and the kid got some good shit and he learned to take down walkers." Negan found himself beaming in pride, arching his shoulders and leaning back with a smug, proud grin. "I would say today was a damn productive day!"

"Good job, kid." Sid said, aiming a smile at Logan, who smiled tiredly back, leaning against the doorframe, his eyelids starting to droop. The kid seemed almost drunk, what with how fucking tired he looked.

"Thanks, Sid. Dad taught me a lot. About knives and Pink Floyd." Logan said, shifting to sit straighter and tugging his new shirt out by the bottom to show the trianglular prism that decorated the front.

"Well, I suppose he covered all the important things then." Sid snorted, giving Negan a rather wry look. Negan just smirked back toothily, quite fucking pleased with himself, thank you very fucking much. Sid rolled his eyes and moved away and Negan took a seat next to Logan, the two watching the rest of their group milling around preparing to leave.

"Dad?"

"Hrm?"

"Do you think we could find some Pink Floyd cassettes next?" Again with those goddamned, adorable as shit puppy dog eyes.

"Sure as shit, kiddo. Whatever you want, I'll try and fucking find it for you."

"Thanks, Dad." Negan's body jolted as Logan's thumped against him. "You're the best, even if you're a dick sometimes."

"Gee thanks, kiddo. Love you too."

* * *

That night found the group huddled in a clearing in the woods, a fire roaring like a fucking horror campy movie from the eighties featuring an actual fucking camp.

The group had shot a coyote and were now swapping stories by the fire. After leaving the abandoned neighborhood to avoid any herds, they had traveled until dusk without finding another town and had settled in a clearing to wait till morning. Negan hadn't liked the idea to stay out, but with no choice, he'd kept his mouth shut.

Now Negan sat next to Logan, the pair eating as much as they could get; fresh food was a fucking godsend compared to the canned shit they usually were forced to eat. Negan relished every mouthful, even if he ended up burning his tongue and singing his fingers. Logan didn't seem to give a fuck either, eating ravenously.

"I can't believe you nailed that thing from across the parking lot." Brandon was talking, pointing towards the hunting rifle Negan had found in the house they had scavenged earlier. "That was amazing."

"I've never fired a gun in my life. Feels like I've got a ten foot dick made out of giant dicks that ejaculate dicks.'" Negan smirked around a full mouth, before playfully elbowing Logan who was rolling his eyes. As much as the kid had grown to like their new group, he still didn't quite fully appreciate man-talk yet. But at least he was a good fucking sport about it. "Seriously. Guns are the shit."

"You're a dick." Logan mumbled, his mouth full, and Negan grabbed the kid, before rubbing his knuckles into his skull. "A giant dick!"

"That's Mr. Dick to you, Dick Jr." Negan laughed, earning eye-rolls and some chuckles from the rest of the men sitting around the fire. "Seriously, guns are the shit." Negan continued, releasing Logan with a playful grin. After their score scavenging today, bonding over killing walkers - of all fucking things they could get along doing -, and finding new weapons, the group was in high spirits. "Overcompensation?" Logan nodded, adamantly, and Negan smirked. "Listen to your old man, you little shit. I'm trying to pass my fucking knowledge down on your ungrateful little ass."

"What do you always say, Dad?" Logan teased, leaning back with an eyebrow raised. "What-the-fuck-ever?" Goddamn, this kid was gonna give him grey hairs before he turned fifty. A chorus of laughs followed the kid's words and Negan ran his tongue over his teeth, giving a soft chuckle. The fucking attitude on this little shit.

However, the group fell silent, smiles falling from faces and fear taking its place. Negan took another bite of his food, looking them over.

"What? Too much dick talk?" A strangled groan broke the silence before anyone else could and Negan jerked around to find the shadowed form of a walker shambling towards him in the dark, its form thrown in harsh, nightarish contrast by the flickering light of the campfire.

"Holy shit! Behind you!"

Negan seized the hunting rifle propped at his side as quickly as he could, bringing the gun to bare and cursing himself for becoming too relaxed. Careless, fucking careless.

The rifle bucked in his hands and the walker's head exploded into fleshy chunks and the decomposing body fell with a meaty thump. Out of the corner of his eye, Negan saw Logan grab his knife, side-stepping a corpse grabbing for him and kicking its leg as hard as he could, bring it to its knees, before he slammed the knife into its skull with a squelch.

A disgusting rotting arm grabbed Negan over his shoulder and he jerked away, slamming his elbow back into the walker and making it stumble backwards, where it tripped and fell backwards into the fire. Good. Negan was glad that the fucker was burning.

"You pricks could have told me we were fucking surrounded." Negan growled, looking around for the others. All around him, the small herd of walkers moved sluggishly, but there were a literal shit ton of them stumbling around in the dark.

Negan could hear some of them eating; the sound of flesh tearing and being gnashed by rotting teeth. Logan kicked another corpse away, backing up until he was close to his dad again. He was panting heavily, whole body tense, but the little shit would go down fighting.

In the light caused by the fire, Negan could see the others had been caught off guard and taken down by the walkers, their bodies now being ripped apart by the hungry infected, walkers swarming over them like ants on fucking potato chips.

"Huh." Negan snorted, lowering the rifle, for the moment, bewildered and at loss for fucking words.

"I think you meant fuck, Dad." Logan sighed, eyeing the walkers around them. His gaze fell on the fallen form of Sid and Negan saw the kid's face fall in sadness and disappointment.

Negan sighed softly and nodded, before taking a few steps forwards, picking up Paul's dropped bat - the one he always had - and taking it to the back of a nearby walker's skull. He hit the smelly fucker so hard, an eye popped out.

It was gross as shit.

Steadily, Negan worked through the walkers between him and the road, with Logan keeping an eye out for stragglers, taking any out that drew close while Negan handled the others. The kid's expression was stoney and unemotional. The baseball bat he now held busted skull after skull until no walkers remained.

Fuck it, he was pissed. He had told the fuckers that they had needed to find shelter sooner or keep going when that wasn't available, and Paul - the stupid shit - had made the dumbass decision to stay in the woods.

Maybe it was something more than necessary to whack the everloving shit out of each and every one of the rotten fucks, but it made him feel better, to take his anger and rage out on something and see it crumple to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Before he knew it, he was done, and there was silence, except for the pop, hiss, and crackle of the fire still blazing and the panted breaths of himself and Logan nearby. The kid's face was streaked with brackish walker blood, but the boy was still in one piece. He was looking up at his father with a somewhat questioning expression, probably wondering what the fuck had jumped up Negan's ass to make him go on a walker-annihalating spree.

Negan smiled as reassuringly as he could, dropping the bat to ruffle the kid's hair. Logan looked relieved as his dad seemed to shake off whatever rage that had taken him over. The kid gently shoved his hand away, looking to the bodies of Paul, Brandon, Sid, and the one other fucker Negan couldn't remember the name of with a saddened expressionn. He kicked at the motionless arm of a walker, anger flitting across his face as quickly as it had fucking came.

Negan moved back to the fire, bending down to pick up his pack and pull it onto his back; after a moment Logan did the same, but something made Negan stop. He turned, his gaze falling on the baseball bat, still covered in walker blood and gore, and something compelled him to pick it up.

Logan watched him curiously as his dad knelt down and picked up the bloodied bat, holding it in both hands and looking at it intently, dark brows furrowed as he obviously mulled things over.

The kid looked up at him questioningly and Negan smirked, knowing he didn't really need to explain things to the boy. Logan may be only eight, but he was quickly learning how to understand how his father thought and felt, almost like they were growing closer and closer by the day. Their relationship had begun somewhat weak and unsure, a father and son that needed more time together earlier, but every day their bond grew stronger.

Logan smiled in return returned the knife to the sheath on the left, slipping it into its proper place. Negan ran a hand over the length of the bat thoughtfully, before looking at Logan questioningly with a brow raised. The brat look at him inquisitively, head cocked to one side.

And that was that. Negan attached the bat to his backpack and gestured for Logan to follow him. And together they left the carnage behind, the fire still burning behind them.


	5. Chapter V: (Don't Fear) The Reaper

**Author's Note** : Hey guys. Just wanted to pop in and say hello again! I hope you guys are enjoying what I've written so far. I appreciate everything! I'm having loads of fun writing this stuff. I love Steven Ogg, so I just had to add Simon this chapter. I am going to start diverging from Comic canon and lean more towards implied tv canon (which involves some guess work on my part), but I'm trying to keep elements of both. Chapter soundtrack and title is (Don't Fear) The Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult Please read, review, and most of all enjoy!

Edit: fixed a tiny issue that I missed earlier. Sorry.

 **gabrielsangel23** : Thank you very much for your review! I'm super glad you're still enjoying the fic and I'm doing my best to make things enjoyable to read. It makes me very happy to see someone enjoying my fic; it keeps my motivated to right more.

 **Guest (Chapter 4 -/- 12/13/17)** : Yeah. I was very tempted to have Logan be named Negan junior, but figured that would be very confusing so opted for Logan instead. I agree completely that any Negan-spawns would probably be named Negan as well, but I'm not sure about pairing Negan with anyone in this story. I'd rather explore his relationship with his son rather then a romantic relationship.

 **C.E.W** : As far as Lucille the bat is concerned, the one Negan has now is that bat. He just hasn't taken the next step to wrapping it/her in barbed wire and naming her after Lucille. He is rather attached to it though. Logan loves his dad, despite their issues, but I'm staying quiet about future plans. Hope you continue to enjoy. :)

Thanks for the reviews guys!

* * *

Negan scowled as Logan looked pleadingly up at him, pouting his lower lip out and giving him the fucking puppy dog eyes that had always, always won him the fuck over. Only Lucille had been immune to those goddamned adorable eyes. Negan brushed the thought away as quickly as it came, before more of those fucking feelings could come up and bite him in the ass like they always fucking did.

The man ran his hands over the pistol that Logan had found when they raided another gas station. The clerk behind the register had been ripped apart by walkers, but his gun was still usable. It was a Beretta of some sort - compact and sturdy - and perfect for Logan to start learning how to shoot; it just needed some goddamned TL-fucking-C and some fucking ammo.

"I'll only use it for emergencies." Negan's gaze fell onto Logan again, and the boy held his stare steadily. Negan immediately wanted to say fuck no. Not that he believed Logan was incapable, the kid was scrappy, stubborn, and a survivor, but a knife was one goddamned thing and a gun was a-fucking-nother.

"This ain't like the fucking movies, kiddo. This thing will have recoil. If you don't hold it right and respect that, it'll pop you faster then I will." They both knew he wouldn't hit him, but the point of the statement still stood. Logan nodded, face solemn. Good, the brat was taking this shit seriously. "You can carry it for now." He made doubly fucking sure the safety was on and tapped it with his finger. "This stays ex-fucking-actly where it is now. Or you won't get this. I'm not fucking joking, Lo."

"I understand." The gun was passed back, and Logan clipped the holster to his belt. He checked the safety as well, nodded, and slipped the gun back into its proper place. "I promise I'll be careful. Thanks, Dad."

"I know, kiddo." Negan ruffled his hair, smiling faintly, his chest warming with pride. "I'll teach you how to shoot in the morning. Right now, we need to find some shelter. No use shooting it off early like a fucking highschooler at prom and bring a bunch of fucking dead pricks right up our asses."

"I think I saw a sign for a town down the road. It said the closest one was a couple of miles though.. Think that might work?" Negan nodded and started walking back towards the direction Logan indicated with his thumb.

"Yeah..." Negan replied. "Maybe..." They started off down the road, Logan got his walkman out and picked out a Led Zeppelin cassette, his favorite. He placed the ear phones on and hummed along to Immigrant Song. They soon found themselves walking along a river that ran lazily between trees. The kid looked up when Negan tapped his shoulder, and he pulled the headphones off.

"We'll take a fucking break here." Negan said, looking around the area for any fucking walkers lurking around. He was goddamned pleased as punch to note that Logan was doing the same and once satisfied, father and son sat down in front of the river.

Negan stretched his sore legs out and leaned back, feeling his vertebrae and joints pop into their proper places again. He was getting way too fucking old for this kind of shit. Logan dug in his backpack for some jerky he had found in the gas station and handed a strip over, which Negan took with a grateful nod. They sat and munched on their food until they heard the sounds of footsteps approaching through the grass.

Negan looked over his shoulder to see an elderly man in a sweater vest and glasses nervously approaching them, with what could have only been his wife in tow. Logan watched the two strangers approach curiously, his head tilted to one side as they came slowly closer.

"We aren't trying to rob you or anything." The older man said softly; he sounded like a college professor Negan had when he was getting his goddamned degree. Very soft fucking spoken and polite. "We just... We're out here on our own and we were wondering... Do you have a safe place to stay?"

"No." Negan stood, making the man and his wife take a nervous fucking step back; he towered over both of them easily and watched them intently, wondering what their fucking MO was. It didn't fucking matter to him that they were an older couple. He didn't trust anyone right off the fucking belt in these times.

He wouldn't approach just anyone in order to travel with them, but then again, he did have Logan with him. People would of course assume he was alright if he was traveling with a young child, especially his own; Logan could be nothing else but Negan's. The only difference between the two of them was that Logan's eyes were light grey and Negan's were hazel, almost brown. And the way he carried himself was more like Lucille; it was goddamned hard as fuck to describe, it was just something he got from his Momma.

"You can come with me and Dad." Negan turned his head sharply to look down at Logan, who was now smiling at the two. The woman smiled back, her eyes softening at the brat's offer.

"Lo..." Negan rumbled softly, giving the kid a stern look. Logan folded his arms across his chest and shifted his weight, holding his goddamned ground. Rolling his eyes, Negan relented, nodding before he turned and started walking. Logan trotted after him, humming cheerfully and looking pleased with his fucking self that he had won his father over. Falling into step alongside Negan, the man and his wife followed along.

"My name is Francis. And this is Elizabeth." The older man said, introducing himself and the woman at his side. "Thank you for letting us come with you...?"

"Negan." He cleared his throat roughly, trying to sound less like a goddamned serial killer. "I'm Negan and the kid is Logan." The brat piped up with a 'nice to meet you' and Negan reached over with his right hand to ruffle the kid's hair affectionately as they walked along.

"Is Logan your son?" Elizabeth asked softly, looking at Negan with a kindly expression. He nodded jerkily, moving his hands to the straps of his backpack as the grass beneath their feet became dirt and then tarmac as they came to the road. "He looks so much like you."

"Thanks. Wasn't really my fucking department though. I just helped." The two newcomers to their tiny group raised their brows at his swearing and exchanged a look, but Negan kept on fucking keeping on, soon leading the way down the road. He listened as Elizabeth struck up a conversation with Logan, the kid a bit hesitant to respond at first, but gradually warming up to just how fucking nice the lady was.

However, the conversation eventually turned to something a little - ie a lot fucking - darker. Elizabeth had asked about Lucille, and the kid had clammed up, walking faster to avoid the whole goddamned talk. Negan didn't fucking blame him one iota.

Elizabeth and Francis instantly picked up that they had hit the motherfucking nail on the head of sensitive topics.

"I'm so sorry." Francis said, bringing both father and son's attention to him and his fretting wife once again, coming to a standstill in the middle of the road. "We had a daughter, Annabelle..." He gave a weak smile, full of pain that Negan found he could understand all too fucking well. "She was almost sixteen." The older man went on, and the group began moving again. "She was right there with us, running alongside us."

"Then the next minute.." Elizabeth's voice cracked and broke with a whimper and she brought her hand to her mouth to stifle her cries. "She wasn't. We had to keep running. We were so scared... and they already had her."

"I'm fucking sorry." He said softly. And what more could he say? Negan felt his stomach turn violently, thinking of losing a child, losing Logan, in such a violent fucking way. He looked down to see the kid pressing a bit closer to him, a sorrowful look on his face. Negan dropped a hand to his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze as they pressed on, keeping Logan close to comfort and watch over him.

They passed most of the fucking day walking. Logan would ask Negan questions about shit he saw, signs for restaurants they'd never been to, what words he didn't understand meant, and Negan explained what he could patiently and what he couldn't Francis spoke up about. It was actually kind of fucking nice to have someone else there to talk to Logan with.

The goddamned walkers came right the fuck outta nowhere, a herd of them stumbling through trees like motherfucking nightmares. Negan immediately grabbed the bat from the top of his pack and he heard the sound of Logan getting his knife behind him.

The baseball bat hit the first walker's skull with a crack, splitting it at the top like an fucking rotten egg and Negan came around for a second hit, nailing the other undead prick. Logan kicked one walker in the knee, like his father had shown him, and stabbed the downed walker through the eye, before ripping the knife right back out to the tone of Elizabeth's startled, high-pitched scream.

A strangled gurgling gasp came from behind him and Logan wheeled around, ready to smack the everloving shit out of the next walker to get close to him. But there was no undead fucker shambling up to him, only Francis getting his goddamned throat ripped out to a spouting fountain of blood.

Negan swore explosively, bringing the bat to bear and knocking the walker back with all his fucking might. It's body went sprawling and he stepped over before bringing the bat down again and again, cursing with each hit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Logan take another fucking running leap at another walker that was crouched over the prone, bloodied form of Elizabeth. The kid stabbed the shit out of the undead prick, even when it stopped moving. The kid kept fucking going until the walker's head was pretty much goddamned mush.

"Kiddo!" Negan looked around and seeing no more walkers, he ran right the fuck over, grabbing the kid around the middle and dragging him away. "Ya got him, Lo. Ya got him."

Logan kicked and cried in frustration, anger, and sadness, sounding like a wounded, angry animal. One of his hands moved to his father's arm around his stomach, before he went limp, whimpering and panting as tears and snot ran down his face.

Negan held him close to his chest, still holding the bat in one hand as he tucked the boy against his body. Logan clung to his shirt, and Negan rubbed his back as the kid continued his teary tirade into his chest.

"I know, kiddo. I know."

* * *

 _Negan groaned as he closed the door behind him, tossing his keys into their dish on the entrance hall and rolling his shoulders. He put his backpack full of his coaching shit on the peg hanging on the back of the door._

 _"Luuuuuucy! I'm home." He walked into the livingroom to find Lucille watching some baby show with Logan sat in her lap drooling on one of his toys and dressed in a onesie with dinosaurs on it._

 _"Hey, baby." She said, smiling at him over her shoulder. "How was work, handsome?" She scooted over carefully so he could plop on the couch near her feet, propping his booted feet on the coffee table. Logan gurgled softly, still mouthing on his toy, as though determined to fucking gum it to death._

 _"It was fine." He said, leaning over to place a kiss on her temple and nuzzled Logan, earning a giggle from the spawn. "One of the fucking kids got nailed in the fucking face with a basketball. Blood goddamned every-fucking-where." He mimed it out with one hand, splaying his fingers out as he moved a pillow to his lower back and leaned into the couch, closing his eyes as he relaxed._

 _"Sounds fun." Lucille teased, reaching out to gently grasp his hand. He smiled back tiredly and gave her fingers a tender squeeze. "I'm making steaks."_

 _"Hot damn, is it our anniversary again already?" Negan asked, perking up immediately and sitting up with a huge goddamned grin and looking down at Lucille. She smiled at him, evidently amused by his reaction._

 _"No. Not yet. But I figured we could use some celebration." Lucille said, tickling Logan's side and making the baby give more little gurgles of laughter, his chubby little face lighting up. "I know we've both been busy since Logan's been born and I think we should sort of have a nice dinner." Negan watched with pride, before reaching over and picking up the kid, holding Logan under the arms and gazing at him._

 _"Was all this your fucking idea, Lo? Trying to get us to feed your fat little ass more, huh? That's the fucking scheme?" Logan burbled and patted his father's face with his small hands, making little baby noises. "Al-fucking-right then. Do you want your Momma's steak or Dad's kickass spaghetti, Lo?" He asked, giving the infant a little jiggle. Jesus Christ, this chubby little bastard looked like his Uncle Ed except way more fucking handsome. Probably had Negan's genes to thank for that. Logan just burbled at him, looking confused while Lucille chuckled._

 _"He's not quite up to steak yet." Lucille leaned to kiss Negan's jaw, cuddling up close to him, leaning against his broad body. Logan started gurgling at her, just baby-talking to anyone who would fucking listen. "I'm sure one day, he'll love to have some spaghetti." She said, gently shaking Negan's knee._

 _"I know, I know. That's fucking awesome and shit. Is he doing alright?" He asked, looking over Logan worriedly, his mind flashing over all the negative possibilities and what could go wrong. "He's not too skinny is he? Everything alright with him?"_

 _"No. Doctor said he was perfect. He's gonna be a big boy." Lucille leaned over to kiss him and Negan smiled against her soft lips."_

 _"Like his Daddy?"_

 _"Just like his Daddy."_

* * *

"Find anything, kiddo?" Negan threw over his shoulder, opening kitchen cabinets and finding little else besides dusty plates and fucking gross ass dead bugs laying on their backs with their goddamned legs up.

"I ain't found shit!" Came the voice from upstairs and Negan sighed before slamming the cabinet shut and moving towards the livingroom, hoping maybe there'd be something useful there.

"Well keep fucking looking!" He shouted up the stairwell as he passed it, holding his bat in one hand, just in fucking case. "Let me know if you need some help up there, kiddo."

"Got it!"

Negan approached the dusty tv sitting in its dusty alcove on an entertainment, picking up the abandoned remotes sitting on the coffee table and looking to see if they still had some batteries in them. He pocketed any that he found, intending to hold on to them for either flashlights or Logan's walkman.

Seeing nothing else in the livingroom or kitchen, Negan headed upstairs, to where Logan was searcing the other parts of the house. He reached the landing and frowned to himself, not seeing the brat any-fucking-where. Cursing internally, Negan called out, hoping the boy was just engrossed in something or some shit that had caught his interest.

"Lo, where the fuck are ya?"

"Over here. We got company." Feeling like a bucket of ice had been dumped in his veins, Negan jogged the rest of the way to the last door of the hallway, stepping through it to find Logan holding his gun at two people in the corner, who eyed the little shit like was going to go Rambo on their asses.

It was pretty fucking funny, to see mostly grown people afraid of an eight year-old. But then again, Negan had been on the receiving end of the brat's holy-shitfit tantrums and knew how scary that shit could fucking be.

The pair of strangers were young adults, late teens, early twenties, one woman, one man. They were obviously related to one another, judging by their shared facial features. They both had haunted stares, but who fucking didn't now these days. The four people stared each other down for a long moment, not quite sure of the others.

"Look, we don't wany any trouble, fellas." The man started off, his nervous gaze flitting between Negan and Logan. "We're just staying here for a bit."

"Don't give us any fucking shit and there won't be any goddamned problems." Negan growled cutting the fucker off while reaching behind him to grab his baseball bat and tapping the barrel of it against his palm again and again.

"We don't want to, buddy." The woman said, holding her hands up in a placacting gesture. Her eyes moved between Negan and the bat in his hands.

"We can even work together." Her brother added hopefully. Logan and Negan exchanged quick, doubtful fucking glances, not looking optimistic. "What? Do you think we'll slow you down or something?"

"You can come along if you want, me and the brat won't mind it." Negan said softly, lightening the fuck up, before ruffling Logan's shaggy hair and walking down the hall. The kid immediately holstered the gun and followed after him. "Just follow us, I fucking suppose."

* * *

They were not able to reach a town that night, the roads blocked with cars left by their owners and a herd of walkers they had to hide from under the vehicles. So instead they took shelter in an abandoned shack of sorts in the woods. Negan started a fire with a box of matches Logan had found and they ate tinned beans and soup out of the cans.

The woman, Audrey, and her younger brother, Malcolm, were telling their stories while Logan and and Negan ate. They had offered the siblings some food, but it sat mostly untouched. Logan would probably finish it up in a bit; no sense in letting it go to waste.

"My dad screamed - 'I'll hold them off, you get out of here! I'll catch up'." Malcolm said, his voice sounding distant and stunned, like he couldn't believe it himself. Negan ate a spoonful of beans and nodded, although he wasn't sure Malcolm really needed the encouragement to continue. The poor fucker looked like he needed to get this shit off his chest. "I... I believed him. I thought he'd distract them and find a different way out and..." He trailed off, looking into the flames with a haunted expression.

"I can still hear his screams." Audrey broke down in tears. Logan blinked and set his can of lukewarm chicken noodle soup down and reached out to gently stroke her shoulder. Audrey blinked and startled away at first, before she allowed the kid to keep rubbing her back.

"My Mom turned." Logan said, looking deeply into the fire. He wouldn't even look at Negan. "She had cancer." Audrey and Malcolm exchanged sympathetic looks before Audrey gently stroked Logan's back, like he had done for her. Negan watched, not quite sure what to say or do. This was more about Lucille from Logan then he had ever gotten before, and he wasn't really sure how to respond. "I'm sorry about your dad. But he did it to protect you guys." Logan shrugged and fell silent again, picking up his can of soup again.

Negan sighed softly, poking at the lumps of beef in his vegetable soup, his appetite lost. He knew Logan needed to talk about what had happened with Lucille - really fucking talk about it - but it was painful for both father and son.

Lucille was the light of their lives, and living without her was like living without the sun. Negan would try to talk to him about it tomorrow. See if maybe they could have some heart to heart without sarcasm and jokes used as shield to keep the fucking hurt and sorrow away.

"Thanks, Logan." Malcolm said, sounding genuine. "I'm sorry about your mom too. I'm sure she was a great lady." He looked between Negan and Logan, obviously offering his condolences to them both. Negan gave a small nod.

"She was a fucking hell of a woman."

* * *

 _"Negan! Come and see!"_

 _Negan followed Lucille's voice into Logan's nursery, wiping his hands off on a dishcloth from the kitchen. He poked his head inside, searching the grey and yellow room quickly until he found Lucille sitting in the nursery chair they had picked out fucking months and months ago before Logan had been born. Logan was sat in her lap, looking like he'd just had a nap, his hair sticking straight fucking up like he'd stuck a goddamned fork in an outlet. Negan wouldn't put it past the tubby little shit._

 _"What the fuck is it? He found the cure for world-hunger or some shit?" He teased. Logan gave an excited squeal at seeing him, reaching out with grasping little hands for his Daddy. Negan paused, standing in the doorway, staring, not quite fucking sure how to react._

 _"He's been doing that lately." Lucille stood up and offered him the baby, and Negan took him gently, bending his head down and tilting it slightly to look at the spawn with a gruff but sincere smile. "He knows his Daddy from far away now, not just up close." Logan's tiny hands patted at Negan's scruff, but they never pulled with his grasping little fingers. He just seemed entranced by the coarse texture. "He also likes to kick."_

 _"So I got my future quarterback?" Negan simpered at Lucille, tilting his head again as Logan made a little cooing noise, as if in agreement while Lucille chuckled and shook her head. "It can be a goddamned bonding experience and shit, Lucy-baby."_

 _"I know, but hold off until he can actually walk, yeah?"_

 _"Yeah fucking yeah. I know. I read the paternity child-rearing books and shit too." Lucille doubtfully raised an eyebrow, staring at him steadily until Negan grinned and shrugged. "Well, I skimmed the important fucking bits."_

* * *

The next morning, Negan roused Logan bright and early to take him out shooting. They had saved all the nine millimeter ammo that they could find which would fit the Beretta and Negan decided sooner rather then later was better.

He and Logan left Malcolm and Audrey to break up camp, walking about fifteen, twenty feet away to where a fallen tree and a tree stump stood. Negan had gathered the cans from last night's dinner and set them on the fallen trunk, before returning back to his son's side.

"I want you to try and aim for those." He said, but if you can hit the tree, that's a fucking start." He showed Logan how to load the Beretta and turn the safety off. "Every time you're done firing, I want the fucking safety back on. Lickity-fucking-split." Logan nodded, hanging onto every word. "Keep your finger straight and off the goddamned trigger until you want to fire." He demonstrated and the kid nodded again, soaking in the information like a sponge. "It's gonna recoil, jump, in your hand. You don't need to grip it hard. That'll hurt your fucking hand, but hold it firmly."

"Firmly, but not hard, got it." Logan promptly raised a brow. "You're not gonna talk about dicks again, are you?" Negan burst out laughing, before he shook his head, still chuckling.

"No, no. I promise. Scout's goddamned honor." Negan straightened up and waved a hand to the cans. "Alright, kiddo. Have at it." Logan turned to the cans, raising the gun firmly in both hands, one bracing the other. "Don't shut one eye." His father said, leaning over to watch him. "That's fucking stupid shit that'll just throw your aim off. And try to keep your breathing steady. Jerky ass breathing will make you miss."

A loud bang burst from the gun, the bullet hitting the trunk with a thunk. Logan was forced back a step or two by the recoil, bumping into Negan's leg. Negan smiled in approval and Logan braced himself again before he took another shot. This one went wide and didn't hit anything, but the third hit closer to the can, almost making it fall off the tree.

Shot after shot rang out, and Negan watched with pride as Logan slowly but surely got better and better. He was a goddamned natural. One by one, each can fell victim to the boy's growing skill until Logan ran out of the ammo he'd been alloted for their lesson.

"Good fucking job, kiddo." Negan rumbled, ruffling the kid's hair. "That was fucking amazing." Logan beamed with pride and the two walked back to camp. Negan had never seen Logan look so proud and happy, peppy little spitfuck was practically fucking skipping.

Maybe, just maybe Negan was actually getting pretty fucking okay at this being a dad in the middle of a goddamned apocalypse thing.

* * *

 _"Lucy-lu, light of my fucking life, fire of my loins, love, I don't fucking think I'll be good at this shit." Negan followed Lucille as she carried her bags to the door, holding Logan in his arms as he jangled around a pair of fake plastic keys and gurgled at his Momma to pay attention to him. Only three months old and the little shit was the biggest Momma's boy in the history of Momma's Boys._

 _"Negan, you'll do great." Lucille stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips and for once in his goddamned life, Negan did not reciprocate. Which was odd as hell, usually he was all fucking for it. "I left you his schedule for him and you two need some bonding."_

 _"Yeah, I fucking know. Work's just been a goddamned madhouse with football season and Stevenson fucked up his ankle and broke a fucking nail or some shit." Negan rolled his eyes, but smiled half-heartedly as Logan batted his keys at his Daddy and he gave the little spawn a playful jostle. "But do you forget who the fuck you're fucking talking to, Lucy? I'm the fuck-up king of fuck-ups."_

 _"Negan." Lucille held his face in her hands and gave him another kiss. "You're a great Daddy. You knew how to change him at the store. And where to find his binky when we lost it. And when he got gassy that one time. You know what to do and you'll do it because you're a natural father." She kissed him again, as if to hammer it fucking in and Negan nodded, swallowing down his nervousness as Lucille bent down to talk to Logan. "Mommy has to go, baby. It'll only be for a three days. I'm gonna go see Grandpa." She kissed the infant's chubby little cheeks, earning a little baby-giggle from him. "Be good for Daddy. I know you will."_

 _She picked up her bags and headed out the door where one of her friends from work was parked on the side of the street, giving her a ride to the airport. Negan dragged her in for one last kiss goodbye before watching her leave, giving a wave._

 _Logan whimpered as his Momma disappeared into the car and the car itself rumbled down the street until it was out of sight. Negan gave the kid a little squeeze._

 _"C'mon, kiddo. You'll fucking see. Dad's way more fucking fun. I'll give ya fucking chocolate pudding."_

* * *

A week later, found the small group raiding a deserted walmart in a deserted neighborhood. They were running low on supplies after finding nothing but corpses and dried blood puddles for a while. Most places were slowly getting picked over by other survivors, so it was all luck to find something.

It seemed the place hadn't been hit too hard yet judging by the fine layer of dust on everything and the smell of rotting food in the coolers and freezers that lined some of the aisles. The end of the world had hit fast and hard, but there were still some supplies that could be salvaged.

Logan had actually been pretty damned excited when they found the store. He was growing almost every fucking day, like a fucking radiactive weed on steriods or some shit. It would be great to get some new clothes for him, since he already was growing out of his pants once a-fucking-gain.

Negan was able to pry open the closed automatic doors by himself; they weren't very heavy at all. The electricity had long since flickered off, but the doors could still be forced open.

Logan squeezed through first, being the smallest, despite his growth spurts. He was the best at scouting new areas, being quicker and more agile then his father. Negan also trusted him to be able to hold his own and be smart about it; kid was smarter then most dumbfucks on this planet. He had common sense. It only took about five minutes for the boy to whistle an all clear.

"How's it looking, kiddo?" Negan asked, sliding the door on his side all the way back and following the kid inside the atrium of the Wal-Mart. Dusty carts were pushed against either of the far walls and faded signs hung from the warehouse-esque rafters overhead.

"All clear for now, Dad."

"That's what I like to fucking hear." Negan grinned, as Malcolm and Audrey filed in after them. They shut the doors behind them and headed deeper inside the store. "Did you see any deadhead pricks?"

"Not yet, but I think I heard some in the employee lounge." Logan said, picking up a reader's digest and flipping through the pages before putting it back. A Star Wars coloring book caught his eye next and he stared at it for a few seconds, before looking to his father.

"Just keep on your fucking toes then." Negan said, looking at some ibuprofen. It was almost expired, but expired was better then fucking nothing. If the kid wanted a fucking book, he could have it. Logan grinned and picked up several, and a pack of markers and colored pencils before shoving it into his backpack.

"I laugh in the face of danger." Logan said, looking around and around for whatever struck his interest. Negan rolled his eyes and started clearing out a display of mini-first aid kits. His eyes fell on some clothes in the kid's section across the way from him and Negan waved a hand to let the kid have at it. He didn't need his father holding his hand to pick out shit.

Audrey and Malcolm were moving up and down the check outs with their bags, tossing in candy bars, packages of peanuts, and small chip bags in. They were talking about their favorites and arguing between themselves about whether or not Mike and Ikes should be included in the line up. Hint, they should not.

Shortly Logan returned with a fuller backpack and some new black jeans. Negan cuffed him on the head with brusque affection. and the two walked side by side as they continued through the store.

"Logan?"

"Dad?"

"Can I ask you something?" A beat. "Without you being a little smartass about it."

"Sure." Logan said, as they headed into the men's section, the kid following Negan's lead. He desperately needed some new shirts, most of his were covered in blood and other disgusting, gross ass shit.

"I wanna talk about Momma." Negan said, grabbing a metallica t-shirt and holding it up to himself to see if it would fit. Satisfied, he rolled it up and tossed it into his bag. "I know you haven't exactly been able to grieve normally for her. We both fucking haven't." They both knew how much she had meant to the other.

"I do." Logan sighed. "But things are different." The kid continued. "When we get to a safe place, I think I'll deal with it, but right now.." He trailed off as Negan moved through the isles, trying to find other shirts that were his size. A lot of the time, the big and tall was not quite big and tall enough, so he usually went with the largest size he could find. Logan kept watch for any walkers, as per usual, his back partially to his father.

"I fucking miss her. I know she was your Momma, but she was my wife too." Negan said, looking at the kid's back and judging his reaction. The boy was compartamentalizing this shit like a soldier and that worried his father. Quite a fucking lot to be honest. But he could see that it was the best idea, really. For right now; they couldn't afford to be distracted by mourning. Lucille wouldn't want them to be hurt.

"Okay." Negan sighed at the kid's lackluster response, grabbing some long-sleeved shirts that looked like they might fit him. The weather was getting steadily colder and colder, so he tried to focus on getting longer-sleeved shirts. "We should just focus on finding a place, a home."

Before Negan could reply, a scream broke the peace of the abandoned store, jerking Negan from his thoughts and Logan from his watch for walkers. Without another word, they rushed to the sound of the scream. Logan grabbed his hunting knife and Negan readied his bat.

The scream had come from the far end of the store, where aisle upon aisle of canned food and other items sat in neat, dusty rows. Audrey and Malcolm were running through one, Malcolm stumbling over some he cans he had dropped. A walker grabbed his shoulder and bite him, ripping a chunk of flesh from where his neck met his shoulder.

The man screamed in pain and shock, and as much as Negan wanted to help the poor fucker, he knew what a bite meant. There was nothing more they could do.

It was a mad dash to sprint out of the store. Negan held off the walkers as well as he could while Logan and Audrey cleared the way. Several walkers stumbled after the kid, but Negan knew that the boy was quick enough to evade them. He'd lose them in the aisles or among the rack of clothes.

Audrey was using a hammer she had, smacking infected left and right, tears from her brother's death still on her face. They fell back to the check out where Negan saw Logan slam an abandoned cart into a walker in his way, bowling it over before he started pulling one of the two doors open to the attrium.

Logan rushed out first, followed by Audrey and finally Negan. They slammed the door shut and Negan backed up, panting as he saw walkers claw at the glass and was fucking grateful they weren't trying to pull the doors open. Yet.

Logan huffed and puffed, leaning forwards with his hands braced on his knees, shaking like a fucking leaf. That had been too close, way too fucking close. As brave as both father and son could be either alone or backing each other up getting cornered by a herd of walkers in tight corridors was anyone's nightmare.

"Let's get the fuck outta here." Negan said, moving away from the door. He looked Logan over to make sure the kid was fucking untouched and still in one goddamned piece.

"Negan, Logan, wait." Audrey's soft voice stopped them in their fucking tracks, making both males look at her as she stood alone, shoulders hunched.

"What's-?"

"I didn't feel it..." Audry reached up with one hand to shift her thick dark hair to the opposite side, revealing the bloodied bite of a walker on the edge of her neck. "It happened so fast... I couldn't."

"Fuck you." Negan grit out, hands curling into tight fists. The wood of the bat in his hand creaked in his grip.

"What?" Audry and Logan stared up at him with wide eyes as Negan stood, trembling with complete fucking rage and disgust.

"You're bit!?" Negan thundered, his blood fucking boiling in his veins, so hot it almost hurt. "Fuck you! Go fucking fuck yourself up your fucking ass, you fuck!" He roared, jabbing the woman in the chest with his index finger. "I'm sick to death of this shit! You ran and let your father die! You fucking flipped your shit in there... And let your fucking brother die, and for all your trouble... You get to fucking die. I'm sick of you people. You're all fucking weak. All you ever do is die. So go die!"

Audry's face crumpled as her hand moved to her mouth. She fell to her hands and knees and Negan sneered in disgust, still furious. Gripping his baseball bat, he began to turn away.

"Dad!" Negan didn't expect it, but he sure as hell felt Logan's smaller body slam into his much larger one away. He looked down in bewilderment to see the brat glaring up at him, looking the goddamned angriest Negan had ever seen him. "No! We're not fucking leaving her!" Another shove and Negan actually took a step back in surprise as the kid fucking took a swing at him before he turned and stomped over to Audry, grabbing her hand and tugging her up. "It's okay, Audry." He said softly. "I'm sorry Dad yelled... We'll stay with you. I promise."

"Thank you, Logan." Audry wiped a hand across her face, futiley trying to scrub the shed tears away. The kid held her hand dutifully as the weeping woman picked herself up, staying by her side. Negan looked between the two, not quite fucking sure how to react or what to do.

* * *

"Lo...?" For once, Negan followed Logan as the kid walked, his shoulders stiff and set and his expression what one would call absolutely goddamned motherfucking pissed. "... Kiddo...?"

"Don't." The boy snapped, cutting him off. "I don't wanna talk about it." He didn't turn, but kept marching forwards. Negan sighed and trailed after him, feeling guilt gnawing at his stomach like an unrelenting walker. "Let's just go. I guess we have somewhere to be or something."

They walked along what felt like hours, Negan thinking of what to say. Audry was gone and Logan hadn't looked his father in the eye since they had buried her in a shallow grave at the base of a tree. The kid had refused to just leave her.

After she was covered in dirt, Logan had walked off and Negan followed after, not sure how the hell things had gotten like this between him and the boy when things had been so good. They had gotten along so well, better then fucking ever. And now the kid wouldn't even glance in his direction.

If it had been anyone else, Negan would have very quickly told them to go fuck themselves, but Logan was not just anyone else. He was the only thing left in the goddamned world Negan genuinely gave a shit about and the only person left in the goddamned world that genuinely gave a shit about Negan.

"Logan? Look... I'm sorry about what I said..." Negan started off, quickening his pace to catch up to the kid as he trudged along. "It was... fucked up of me to say that shit."

"Yeah." The kid's tone was almost noncommital, but the brat was responding to him instead of just ignoring him or telling him to go fuck himself. "I mean, I'm small and weak, so maybe one day I'll be too slow and die too.

"These people aren't motherfucking survivors like us, Lo." Negan protested, feeling something in his chest clench at the idea of his son dying, of not being able to save him in time. "That shit is not fucking happening. I won't let you fucking go. Not fucking now, not fucking ever."

"... Promise...?" Logan stopped walking, looking up at him intently, eyes betraying a million and fucking one emotions the poor kid was fucking drowning in; fear, anger, resignation. Negan reached over and ran his fingers through Logan's wild, unkempt hair, brushing it back out of his eyes only to have it fall right the fuck back into place.

"I promise, Lo. I promised your Momma I would fucking protect you and that's ex-fucking-xactly what I'm gonna do. Even if it kills me, I will always fucking protect you." Logan looked up at him from behind his dark bangs, studying his expression with those trusting eyes of his, like Lucille's eyes that could cut through all his bullshit and bravado and see his heart and soul laid fucking bare.

"Okay."

* * *

That evening, Negan and Logan had managed to shoot a pair of rabbits, and after walking for another hour or so, they picked a spot in the woods and set up camp. Negan knew he would get little sleep, but Logan was fading fast, his head bobbing as he sat across from in on different sides of the small fire they shared. They had gathered branches and sharpened them, before arranging them around their tiny area to ward off walkers.

However, since the first encounter with a large group of walkers in the woods, they hadn't had the same bad luck. Walkers seemed to mostly stick around to cities and towns and it was only if they heard or saw something that they abandoned the city streets to wander aimlessly off in some vague direction.

Over the flickering flames, on a makeshift spit of sticks, what was left of the rabbits after they had been skinned and gutted was roasting. Negan had taught Logan how, walking him through the fucking gory process like his grandfather had taught him when they went on tiny hunting trips like this before the elderly man had passed. It had been almost nice, despite Logan's disgusted noises and the damn amusing faces he made.

Now they sat and waited for dinner to be done. Logan wound and unwound the headphones to his walkman, but it had run out of batteries a while back and they didn't have replacements yet. Maybe to fucking smooth things over Negan would find some. That'd be a big step in getting the boy to forgive him, but he knew it would fucking take time. The brat was even more stubborn then Negan was.

The sudden breaking of a twig sent both males to grab their weapons, Negan seizing the hunting rifle laying at his side and Logan whipping out the Beretta.

"Things sneaking up on us in the dark either dead or about to fucking be." Negan snarled in warning, not goddamned interested in fucking around or being fucked around with tonight. He was sore, tired, hungry, and motherfucking cranky.

The business end of both Negan's rifle and Logan's Beretta followed the tall, lanky form of a man around Negan's age with a receding mane of dark hair and an easy-going smile half-hidden beneath a very prominent moustache. He walked slowly through the brush, hands held up and a seeing both Negan and Logan glowering at him.

"Hello, hello, hello." He said amicably, glancing between the two. "I'm not here to hurt you. Or your son. I saw your fire." He nodded to the small fire pit where the rabbits still cooked. "And thought that I would see how the both of you were doing this fine evening and if you could use some company?"

What the fuck was this Luigi looking motherfucker on and where could Negan get some?

"My apologies." The man continued, touching a hand to his chest. "I completely forgot my manners. My name is Simon and I'm part of a group. Our home is at a railway warehouse. It's safe."

"Bullshit." Logan growled, the Beretta unwavering as it stayed on the mustachioed Simon standing before them with a bright grin under his facial hair. "Nowhere is safe now."

"Gonna have to agree with the kid." Negan murmured, tilting his head to tfahe side as he watched the other male, ready to fuck shit up if he even twitched wrong. "Now three fucking questions. You answer 'em the right way and you get to fucking live."

"Alright, you're the boss." Simon raised his brows with something like polite surprise, but nodded.

"What the fuck do you want? Why the fuckity fuck do you want me and my goddamned son to come with you? And why the fuckity fuckity fuck fuck do we trust you in the first fucking place?"

"My name is Simon and I'm from this lovely little place called the Railyard. Give you three guesses what it is?" He smiled underneath his mustache, bright dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "I would absolutely love to cordially invite you and your son to stay with us. We have food, we have shelter, we even have other little tykes for him to play with."

"I'm not a baby." Logan grumbled in protest, almost goddamned sulking. Simon burst out laughing at the kid's response, mustach bristling and eyes glimmering with amusement. "And why should we trust you again?"

"Dammmmn! Big guy junior takes after big guy senior." Simon chuckled, running a hand over his face, shoulders shaking. "You can trust me, because I'll be handing this over." He took his pistol out of its holster with a flourish and offered it to Negan or Logan, still smiling jovially.

Logan and Negan exchanged glances once more before Negan took the offered gun, tucking it into the back of his jeans and jerking his head towards the fire. Might as well listen to what the hell this crazy fucker wanted.

They ended up giving Simon part of their diner as the three settled around the fire. While Logan scarfed down his dinner, Negan kept a close watch on Simon out of his peripherals, chewing on his own food just as ravenously.

"So where the fuck is this fucking place that you were talking about?" Negan asked after they had finished eating, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I'll bring ya if you just follow me." Simon smirked and nodded, moving to stand up. Negan followed him, grabbing his rifle again and Logan clicked the safety on of his Beretta.

"So now we trust strangers?" Logan asked, grabbing his backpack and glancing at Negan.

"Seems fucking so, kiddo."


	6. Chapter VI: If You Want Blood

**Author's Note** : I am sooooo sorry for the delay on this. Please consider this like a mid-season finale for me. I tried my best with the action - which is why this took some time. I always feel I suck at writing action so it takes me forever. Thanks for your time and patience. Chapter title and soundtrack is If You Want Blood by AC/DC.

 **gabrielsangel23** : Thank you! I'm really glad you're enjoying the fic so far. It makes my day to see a review from you. I kinda like Simon because he seems more amicable then Negan, but they're both just delightful assholes in my opinion. Asdfghjkl! Thank youuuuu~! I'm so happy. I'm trying really hard with him to make him seem like a real kid, but tough. I'm gonna have to be a little meanie and keep my mouth shut about things in the future.

 **kara315** : Thanks! I've seen one or two fics with Negan having kids, but none went further then one or two chapters. Or they just weren't my cup of tea. I hope you like it thus far. I am toying with one idea, but spoilers. ;P. Thanks again for the review and favorite!

* * *

"Wait until you lay your eyes on this place." Simon said as he led Negan and Logan through the woods, waving with one hand with a goddamned flourish. He was a bit of a character, always making grandiose gestures. Negan found that he could fucking relate; Lucille used to call him such a clown and Negan relished in his cheesiness. He also found that he rather liked that about Simon; the man was cheerful, cunning, and charming, much like Negan himself. "I swear you've never seen anything quite like it. Little boss will like it too. Loads of tykes to run around and play with."

"What-the-fuck-ever." Logan grumbled from the back of their little line, still not warming up to Simon any-fucking-time soon, judging by the goddamn glower on his face. "I'm not a baby.."

"He doesn't really fucking play well with others." Negan chuckled, ruffling Logan's hair and moving his hand down to pat the kid's back. "He'll fucking come on runs with me."

"Negatory on that one, chief." Simon brusquely replied, looking over his shoulder at the two with a frown growing beneath his mustache. "Kids stay behind the fences, where they're safe and sound."

"I'm safest with Dad."

"He's safest with me."

"Alright, alright. No reason to get all huffy puffy with me. We'll see what the big man has to say about it." Simon said with a helpless chuckle, holding his hands in the air.

Negan snorted and Logan rolled his eyes as they trudged onwards.

* * *

It wasn't long before they spotted the hunkered forms of warehouses in the distance, fucking fugly, an island of brick-like buildings with train-tracks wrapping around them. The entire compound was surrounded by a chain link fence topped with razor wire and smaller metal structures like military tank busters with rings of barbed wire wrapped around them.

"Home sweet home." Simon grinned, waving his hand. "Pretty nice, huh?" He smiled expectantly at Logan and Negan as they stared at the Railyard in awe. Negan had to hand it to the Luigi looking motherfucker, he was half expecting the goddamned mushroom kingdom ruled by Princess fucking Peach.

"Pretty fucking nice." Negan admitted grudgingly, earning a broad grin from Simon. Simon led them through the gates, waving to the pair of men carrying guns that had opened the gates before rolling them shut behind them.

Negan looked around, raising his brows as he watched people - real, actual, non-fucking-dead people - mill around inside the main courtyard. Some were even gardening the muddy soil in an attempt to grow some-fucking-thing. Motherfucking gardening. They all looked haggard and worn, clothes little more than goddamned rags hanging off their fucking lean frames.

"Dad, he was right." Logan's voice at his side, had him turning his head to look down at the boy. "There are kids here." Logan looked around with wide eyes, watching as a mother and her three kids stopped what they were doing to stare at the newcomers.

Negan didn't blame them; he was one of the tallest fuckers here, wielding a hunting rifle and a goddamned baseball bat. And Logan was the only child armed, with his Beretta on one hip and hunting knife on the other.

The other children eyed Logan warily, obviously not quite sure what to fucking think of him. He was larger then they were, even though he was around the same age, but while all the children here looked goddamned miserable, none of the kids at the Railyards seemed to have any spirit. Poor little shits.

"So he's only one third not a fucking liar." Negan said, folding his arms and looking at Simon as the lanky man smiled amicably. "So, we came, we fucking saw, what fucking else is there?"

"Negan, I'm gonna level with you, because you're probably gonna shoot me if I don't." Simon pointed a finger at him and Negan curled his lip slightly, but still listened, wanting to hear what the fucker wanted to say. "I'm trying to be nice here, and help you and your son out. My guess is that you want him to be safe?" The idea of keeping Logan safe, keeping them both safe was appealing as fuck. But there had to be something. Nothing this good came free in this world.

"What's the motherfucking catch?" Negan asked, looking Simon in the goddamned eye. He could see Logan at his side out of his peripheriels, keeping one eye on Simon and one on the other people looking at them.

"The catch is you work for me." A demanding voice replied, the tall form of a man wearing a green military jacket and fatigues and scowl like he had an entire tree wedged up his fucking ass. "I'm Martin." He said, looking down his nose at Negan and Logan and sneering, as if he didn't fucking approve of them or some shit. He reminded Negan of uptight dickhole parents of the snotty brats he used to teach. "If you want to stay, you'll pull your goddamned weight or you're out on your ass."

Negan didn't fucking like it, but he knew he had a decision to make. To keep his son - Lucille's son - safe. This was the first fucking place he'd seen with a fence and a secured building and with more than just a handful of people. The first place he'd seen since the Fall that had more then ten people and that could keep his son safe from every-fucking-thing out there that could hurt him.

"You got yourself a fucking deal. If you can keep my kid safe." Negan rested a hand on Logan's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze as the kid glared at Martin with an undeniable 'go fuck yourself, asshole' look. "You can't keep him fucking safe, we don't have a goddamned deal. The kid and I have made it this fucking far without you and your posse of dickless assholes."

"He'll be safe." Martin promised. "As long as he stays inside the fences and you help us scavenge and fight off other assholes that come onto our turf. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

They were soon settled in a large room in one warehouse in the Railyard, where many of the families were relegated to sleep. The majority of the people here had only a single cot or sleeping bags to their names, and the sleeping areas for each family were separated by hanging sheets and blankets. It was almost like a fucking hospital ward and that instantly made Negan fucking sick to his goddamn stomach.

His and Logan's area was almost shoved under a series of metal staircases that led to the upper floor catwalks. It had a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows and that was fucking it. Logan stared down at it rather unimpressed, before he let out a small sigh and tucked his backpack near the stairs, before plopping onto the sleeping bag. He rested his arms on top of his knees and then laid his chin on top, heaving another deep sigh. Negan sat next to him.

"What do you think, kiddo?"

"It's better then out there." Logan replied, watching the people in the massive communal room mill around, going about what was now their daily fucking lives since the Fall. A mother sat on a rickety cot while folding her family's clothes and a pair of children played with some toys, running about the floor.

"Yeah, yeah it fucking is." Negan reached up to scratch at his thick beard, before he reached for his backpack. "C'mere, kiddo." Logan looked up at him, but obeyed, scooting to sit between Negan's knees as directed. Negan fished a pair of scissors out of the very fucking bottom of his backpack. "How fucking short do you want your hair?"

"I don't know." The kid muttered, biting his lower lip and tugging at the long dark hair that hung around the hood of sweatshirt; the hoodie actually fit the kid now. "Momma always cut it short."

"Did you like it short?" Negan asked, resting his hands on his knees while the brat thought it over. It still fucking hurt to talk about Lucille, and both father and son navigated the subject like they were walking on goddamned eggshells.

"I did, but only Momma could get it right." Negan nodded in understanding, reaching up to ruffle Logan's hair gently, trying to comfort the kid as best as he could. He may be pretty fucking awesome at deflecting heavy emotional shit with sarcasm and jokes, but he knew now wasn't the goddamned time. "Maybe a bit like your's, but different...?"

"I think I can fucking do that."

* * *

Negan and Logan decided they would share the sleeping bag until Negan could see about scavenging another one or getting Martin to give them one.

There was just barely enough fucking room for the two to sleep back to back. It didn't do Negan's back any fucking favors, but his peace of goddamned mind was helped quite a bit. It took some time to get used to hearing the sounds of people again and many times the first night Negan jerked awake to the noises of Railyard inhabitants moving around or talking in the night. He quickly decided to talk to Simon about how to get him and Logan their own room in one of the warehouse offices or supply rooms.

He met Simon outside the communal warehouse heading to where they kept the food supplies to see if he could find something to get for himself and Logan. Most times it was Martin's scavengers that were allowed to grab whatever they wanted and the rest of the inhabitants of the Railyard had to scrabble over the sad remainders. It was goddamned pathetic. No wonder the sad-shits around here looked like walkers that didn't get the fucking memo that they had died.

"How're you and the little guy settling in?" Simon asked, fishing in his pockets for a carton of cigarettes. He offered one to Negan, who declined.

"We're alright. Wanted to actually fucking talk to you about getting our own room and shit." Negan said, watching as the man lit the cigarette and took a drag.

"You find grade A shit on our runs and you can use it to barter or earn a room for you and the kid. It'll be up to Martin to decide if what you're raking in is worth it and you're a good earner for us." Negan scowled more and more as Simon explained how shit went down in this shithole. It was basically a free for fucking all with non-scavengers struggling to make ends meet.

What the fuck had he dragged Logan into?

"Will the kid be safe while I'm fucking out risking my goddamned life for this shit?" He asked. The idea of Logan being in danger made his stomach twist with anger and disgust. He already felt guilty about pulling the brat into this, they could have kept going and found another community. If there was one here, there were bound to be others, even if they were far away.

"Yeah, course." Simon said, raising his brows. "Kid will be just fine. He's one hell of a trooper. And he has other kiddos around to hang out with if he feels like playing nice." Negan very much doubted it, but decided not to push the issue.

He and Simon grabbed some food - goddamned granola bars and some powerade - which Negan left half of his share with Logan. The kid still looked drowsy, but Negan was finding that food was one of the better ways to wake the brat up.

"Hey kiddo." Simon greeted, giving a small wave. Logan grumbled at him sleepily, before looking at his father.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, brat. Got breakfast for you." He handed over some of the granola bars and one of the energy drinks, watching as the kid drowsily opened one bar and chewed on it sleepily. "Going on a fucking run soon."

"Cool. I'll get my shit." Logan moved to grab his backpack, but Negan shook his head.

"Sorry, kiddo. You gotta stay fucking here, remember." Logan glared, squaring his shoulders and looking like he was prepping himself for a goddamned shit fit. "I want you to be fucking safe. And you're safest here." The brat opened his mouth to argue, but Negan gently cut him off. "Logan. Please don't fucking argue with me. I promised your Momma." The goddamned fight left the little shit immediately, his shoulders slumping.

"Okay.." The kid looked up uncertainly, a worry he shouldn't even be fucking feeling creasing his brows. "Just be careful?"

"Always, kiddo."

* * *

Dad was gone and Logan was bored out of his mind. Fuck. He sat on the sleeping bag they shared (and no he wasn't pouting like a fucking baby). Could you be bored of being bored? Shit.

Sighing to himself, Logan stood up, rocking on the balls of his feet and looking around the warehouse. There were only a few people sleeping in their cots, probably catching some sleep before or after their work. Nothing of note jumped out at him, so he started walking, hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and the hood pulled over his head to ward off the chill. It was winter now, with his birthday two and a half months gone.

He wondered if Christmas was going to be a thing now and thought about how Santa fighting walkers to give out presents across the world would be a pretty fucking cool idea. He'd have to keep an eye on his reindeer, since walkers ate animals too, but since they could fly that would make them harder to catch. Yeah. Santa could still totally be a fucking thing.

He walked down the halls of the warehouse for what felt like days, wandering what trouble his Dad had gotten into and feeling worry eat away at him, even as he tried to ignore it. Dad was the strongest guy he knew; he'd be just fine. Even without Logan to keep an eye on him and the other way around. Vice-something; he'd ask Dad when he got back. He could almost imagine Dad laughing about the idea of him worrying.

' _Shit, Lo. I'm a grown ass man. I can take care of my fucking self._ '

The sound of raised voices broke him from his thoughts and Logan looked over to see a group of kids standing in an alley made between two warehouses.

Two boys, older and larger then Logan were glaring down a shorter, scrawny kid, one of the elder boys holding a worn looking brown backpack that looked like it was held together by duct tape and a prayer.

"Gi-Give me ba-back my lu-lucky p-pack, Dustin." The younger boy was saying, reaching for the backpack being jangled out of his reach by the taller kid. "Y-you do-don't even w-wa-want it, you're just-just trying to st-start stuff."

"And if I don't, Barf? What are ya gonna do?" Dustin sneered in response as 'Barf' tried to make another grab for the bag, holding it high above the smaller boy's head. What a dick.

"You should worry less about what he's going to do and more about me." Logan growled, walking closer to the other kids and doing his best to handle things how Dad would. Dad would handle this shit like a pro. All three whipped their heads around to face him. "Now stop being a bag of dicks and give him back his shit. Before I kick your ass and make you."

"You and what army?" Dustin sneered. Logan rolled his eyes; this is exactly why he didn't like other kids. He hated dealing with this kind of shit.

"I don't need one to beat up one bully." He raised a brow and glanced to the other kid in Dustin's shadow. "One and a half." He ammended, squaring his shoulders. He was a couple inches shorter then Dustin and his cronie. "I'm only going to say this once. Fuck off or else."

"Or else what?" Dustin shoved him and Logan stumbled back one or two steps, before returning to his spot between the older boy and 'Barf'. "What're ya gonna do?"

"I'll say this slow, since you're a stupid shit." Logan said, speaking every word slowly and carefully. "Give him back his shit. Leave him alone. Or I will kick your ass."

Dustin's face gradually lost all humor as Logan continued, his lip twitching with rage. He sized Logan up with narrowed eyes, his gaze lingering on the hunting knife and the gun Logan toted.

"Looks like you lucked out, Barf. You should thank your new boyfriend." He sneered, shvoing the pack into Logan's chest and slinking off, his toadie in tow. Logan snorted as he watched them go, making sure they weren't going to pull some half-assed stunt and attack while his back was turned.

"T-tha-thanks." Logan looked over to see 'Barf' approach him, fretting with the hem of his too-large shirt with both hands. "Y-you di-did-n't h-have to do th-that." He looked like he wanted to take the pack from him, but was afraid to actually do so.

"It's fine." Logan shrugged, handing it over and shoving his hands back in the pockets of his hoodie. "Next time he does that, just punch him in the nose." He added with a slight smile. "Name's Logan. I heard your's was 'Barf'? What the hell kind of name is that?"

"It's sh-sh-ort for Ba-ba-rtho-lomew. Mo-most pe-peo-ple j-ju-ust call me Barf. It-it's easier." Logan nodded in agreement as the other boy put his arms through the backpack straps, which were mostly duct-tape. "I ha-have my st-stutter, so Barf kin-kinda stuck, bu-but it's not too b-bad." He stuck out his hand. "It-it's ni-nice to me-meet you."

"Same here." He shook the other boy's hand and rocked on his heels wondering what to say next. He'd never really had a lot of friends and was really okay with that. Before Momma had died, she called him a lone wolf. Wolves were cool and everything, but he liked dinosaurs so much more. Or dragons. Dragons were the fucking best. When he had asked Momma about it when she was still alive, she had laughed and said he could be a lone dragon too. Whatever he wanted. "Why do those dickbags bother you?"

"Pr-prolly th-the stu-stutter." Barf said bluntly, shrugging his little shoulders. His head only made it to the tops of Logan's shoulders and he was much thinner then Logan, even if he seemed to have a safe place to eat and rest. "I he-heard Dus-Dust-Dustin lo-lost his Mo-Mom dur-during the Fa-Fall, so I thi-think he's ma-mad. Th-then his Da-dad got bi-bit too. So it's ju-just him an-and hi-his Au-aunt and Un-Uncle."

"Shit..." Logan mumbled, chewing on his lower lip. As much of a cockgobbler as Dustin seemed, he could understand how the other boy felt, losing his Mom and then his Dad in one fucking swoop. It must suck balls. Logan thought about how he would feel if he lost Dad and he thought he'd pretty much be a dickbag too. "Soo..." He said, rubbing one arm. "I'm not really good at this shit but I'm waiting for my Dad to come back from scavenging. Do you wanna hang out inside? I got coloring books. It's better then fucking nothing."

"S-sure!" Bartholomew gave a huge grin, showing buck teeth. Logan smiled and the two started walking side by side back towards the main warehouse where the bunks were. "I pr-promise to st-stay in the li-lines."

They talked about their favorite Star Wars characters on the way back. Bartholomew's was Chewbaca and Han Solo, in that order and Logan thought Darth Vader was a badass, but Han Solo was cool too. He reminded him of his Dad with his attitude. Logan had very, very vague memories of a Halloween where his Dad had dressed as Han Solo and Momma had been Princess Leia. And something about Mom refusing to point blank to wear a gold bikini. Whatever the hell that was.

Logan led Bartholomew to the small area where he and his father slept, looking around for his pack, that he had left. But it was nowhere to be found. Logan looked everywhere - under the sleeping bag, the pillows, and the spare blankets they had been given, but the bag wasn't there.

* * *

Negan sat next to Simon in a beat-up pick-up truck as they went on their run, Simon driving and Negan sitting in the passenger side seat with his arm hanging out the window and his baseball bat laid across his lap.

The other man appeared to be tasked with keeping a fucking eye on Negan, probably to fucking see if he was useful or a deadbeat putz. Not that he fucking minded. He got a good read on their way to the Railyard and found Simon rather fucking likable in a very non-bullshitty sort of way. It was kind of fucking refreshing; to have competency.

They pulled up at sports center along several miles from the highway, almost three hours drive from Railyards. Simon put the truck in park behind the store and pulled the keys from the ignition, turning to Negan.

"Alright. I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that you have done this sort of thing before and with flying colors." He smiled broadly and stepped out of the truck, Negan following after, grabbing his pack with his rifle and baseball bat.

"Yep." He said, popping the 'P'. "I know the goddamned drill." He added looking around for Logan out of habit and then feeling his spirits immediately sink at the lack of having his boy by his side. He knew Logan and trusted him with his life, knowing the kid would fuck shit up to help him and that the brat could hold his own. It felt fucking weird as shit not to have Logan with him. "Let's get this shit over with."

"Alrighty-then." Simon said as they walked to the front doors. It looked to be at some point people had pushed the store's carts up against the doors, so Negan and Simon walked around towards the back, finding an emergency exit. Simon was able to jimmy the fucking door open with a knife and the two peered inside the darkened backroom of the store.

Negan leaned against the door frame and whistled, long and high-pitched. A series of gargling sounds came from the shadowed corners of the backroom and the rotting forms of three employees shuffled towards them, deteriorating clothes hanging from their emaciated frames.

Gripping his baseball bat, Negan strode forwards, cracking one dead fuck across the head and then smacking the shit out of the other. Off to the side, Simon stabbed another walker in the eye with his knife and it crumpled to the ground with a rattling hiss. They looked around again, waiting for more fucking dead heads to come out of the goddamned woodwork, but there was nothing but eerie silence.

Negan pushed the door to the main store open, looking around the darkened store. He and Simon clicked on the flashlights attached to their packs. The beams of light fell upon racks of clothing and sports equipment. The familiar smell of plastic brought back memories of handling his school's gym equipment. Negan shook himself off, gripping his baseball bat as he grabbed a duffelbag with the store's logo and started shoving sweatshirts and socks in the bag. Behind him, he heard Simon doing the same.

They moved as quietly as they could, filling whatever bags they could find; duffel bags and backpacks, or just taking boxes the items came in. Simon told him he could keep some of what he found, so Negan shoved protein bars into his backpack, a pair of headphones for Logan (he had complained about the sound coming from only one side for about a month now), and a some new tactical boots for them both seeing as how their own shoes were on their fucking way out. With winter here it was cold as balls and getting colder and colder every day. So he grabbed a red, grey, and black coat for Logan from the boy's section and rolled it around the smallest set of men's boots he could find for the brat.

The sound of glass breaking startled the two men and the pair watched as several men - all armed to the teeth - entered the store from the broken open wide windows near the front. Negan swung his baseball bat idly in one hand, smiling toothily in greeting. There was nowhere to fucking go and nowhere to fucking hide.

"Good fucking morning, boys." He said, still grinning. The men came to a sudden stop, looking at him like he had lost his fucking shit; he couldn't really blame the dickless motherfuckers. "What can we fucking do for you today?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" One man asked, face hidden behind stringy brown hair and a scraggly beard. Not that Negan looked better when he was on the fucking road; he had looked like a goddamned hobo.

"Figured that'd be obvious as fuck." Negan said, rasing a hand to scratch at the stubble along his jaw. "Same as you fucking bunch of jackasses." He waved at the camping and sporting equipment around them with his bat, the mens' gazes following the movement of the Louisville slugger before flicking back to Negan again. "Got plenty of shit to chose from, fellas."

"What makes you think we'll be sharing, you ugly old fucker?" This bitch did not. Oh, it was fucking on now. Negan arched his back, rocking on the balls of his feet, raising his brows and resting the bat on one shoulder.

"You got it backwards, sport." Negan murmured, his voice light and friendly, but he spat out the fucking words like acid in his mouth. Simon glanced at him uncertainly, knowing something was fucking up. "I'm sharing with you stupid fucks." He growled, waltzing closer with his baseball bat hanging in one hand as he loosely rocked his arm, staring down the strangers, trying to use his height and size to intimidate. "This can go two fucking ways; we keep our dicks in our pants and not have a goddamned dick measuring contest - which I would win - or I beat the fuckity-fuckity fuck out of each and every goddamned single fucking one of you."

He stood nose to nose with the leader of the men; the one who spoke the most and who the others deferred to for direction. The man stood shorter then him, wearing brown cargo jacket and a green beanie over long, lank dark hair. If he could convince this fucker that he was goddamned serious and it was going to be the best idea to cooperate, the others would follow fucking suit.

"So what's it gonna be?" Negan asked, swiping his tongue across the line of his teeth and smiling cheerily all the while it felt like he wag going to throw up with how goddamned hard his stomach was churning. Behind his bravado and swaggering, Negan kept his metaphorical fingers fucking crossed, hoping that the bastards wouldn't push him to doing something he didn't want to fucking do. "Ya gotta ask yourself. 'Do I feel lucky'." He couldn't fucking resist. "Well, do ya punk?"

The click of a gun's safety being flicked off was his only warning. There was a thunderous bang that made his goddamn ears ring and the worst pain he had ever fucking experienced blazing through his shoulder.

Negan staggered, crying out in pain and nearly dropping the duffelbag of shit he had scavenged. He didn't fucking care if that made him a goddamned pussy; it fucking hurt. He reacted on instinct and self-preservation, taking a swing with the bat. The fleshy crack told him he had hit something, but he didn't stick a-fucking-round to find out who had been the lucky bastard.

He immediately ducked behind the nearest shelf of sporting goods he could find ducking down as bullets flew at chest level above his fucking head. He wasn't able - or willing - to move his injured arm much and kept it tucked against his stomach while he tugged the dufflebag across his chest so it rested snugly in place. If he was going to risk his goddamned life for this shit, the least he could do was fucking hold on to it and not fucking lose it. He could feel hot rivulets of blood streaming down his arm and torso - front and back.

He immediately was running in a hunched over crouch as he looked for more suitable cover, holding his bat in a vice grip. One of the men had his back to him, looking around frantically for either Negan or Simon, but he didn't fucking see Negan coming. Another crack of the bat and the man crumpled to the ground.

Negan grabbed the fucker's assault rifle, slinging it over his chest and flinching when he heard more shots go off. He tightened his death grip on the bat as he looked down at the unconcious man and swallowed back the bile in the back of his throat. He'd never killed anyone before and now that count could have jumped up to two. His stomach churned at the idea, but he forced himself to focus. He had to get back to Logan; he'd fight every fucker in the world - even kill them - to get back to his son.

Looking up, he saw a glimpse of Simon - retreating towards the backroom and their truck - nail another fucker in the chest, making him fall to the floor gurgling on his own blood. He saw two more of the men taking cover behind more shelves of camping equipment between him and Simon. Several bullets whizzed way too fucking close to his head and Negan ducked down again. He was goddamned powerless to do anything but hope and fucking pray.

* * *

Logan marched through the Railyard warehouse with a purpose, Barf following behind him nervously chewing a hole in his lip.

"I-I do-don't thi-think this is a go-good idea." He mumbled as Logan looked around for Dustin and his asskissing kissass. "Yo-you should ju-just let it g-go. Dust-Dustin does thi-this to eve-everyone."

"Not to me." Logan snapped back, clenching his fists so tightly his nails bit into his palms. "I should have just kicked his ass when he stole your shit." He added, glancing back at the smaller boy trailing behind him.

"Wh-why di-didn't you?" Logan came to a stop, turning slowly to look at Bartholomew at last.

"I don't like to fight if I don't have to." He mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed, but he didn't really know why. Dad always said that it was survival of the fittest now and they both had to be strong against Walkers, but Logan had never really fought against living people. There'd never been a need to.

He had gotten in fights at school with other kids, finding them annoying and whiny. Maybe it was because Momma always had him talk through is emotions. Every time he got angry or upset, she'd have him explain why and what he could do about it. She didn't treat him like a fucking baby; Momma always treated him like he was a grown up.

Dad was the same way, except more blunt. What he expected from Logan was more then Momma ever had, but he also seemed to understand Logan a little more. Maybe that's why they had problems getting along, they were so much alike.

"Wh-why is it so imp-important?" Barf asked as Logan started walking again. "It-it's just stuff." What he said did make sense, but Logan was too angry to admit it. And it was the 'principal' of the thing. Even if principals were dicks, like Dad always said.

"If I lost it because of Walkers or something, I'd let it go." Logan admitted, running a hand over his hair in anger. "But it's not and I can't just let him keep it." The backpack had his Walkman, Momma's blanket she had made him, and... her red scarf. She'd started wearing it when she lost her hair and when she had gone to the hospital, Logan had pretty much stolen it to hold on to. "It's important."

"O-okay. Let's ge-get it ba-back then."

Barf led him to an trailer of sorts, near one end of the complex, where he claimed that Dustin, his aunt, and his uncle - who was one of Martin's lieutenants - claimed as their own. Logan couldn't lie- he felt more then a little fucking jealous that he and his Dad had to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag and assholes like Dustin got a whole trailer to themselves.

"I thi-think it might ha-have been an off-office when th-the trai-trains ran." Barf explain, seeing the look on Logan's face. "All of Mar-Martin's men ha-have 'em." Logan nodded and they approached the stairs that led to the door. He raised a fist and banged on the door three times, nervously glancing at Barf who shrugged with a small smile.

The door opened to reveal Dustin, who sighed and rolled his eyes at seeing who it was on his doorstep.

"God, you guys. What do you two want and don't you have anything better to do?" He grumbled, leaning against the door-frame and folding his arms across the chest.

Gritting his teeth, Logan drew back his hand and belted him right in the eye. Dustin yowled in pain, reaching up to the injury. Logan shoved him back with all his strength, sending the older boy stumbling backwards into the trailer. Before he charged forwards, grabbing Logan by the front of his jacket and slamming his back into the wall.

Logan was pretty sure that he saw stars when his head smacked the wall and it dazed him. He felt Dustin's hands in his jacket shaking him like a doll. The force and the pain following it knocked the breath out of him before he lashed out and kicked Dustin right between the legs.

The other boy dropped to his knees, holding his junk; Logan almost fucking felt sorry for him, but fact that the asshole had stolen his stuff kept the anger hot in his stomach and chest. He lunged and tackled the downed kid, aiming punch after punch everywhere he could fucking reach.

He had lost his Momma and the only thing he had left of her were memories and the things he held onto in the bottom of his pack; Momma's red scarf and his baby blanket. They were worth everything to him.

Maybe to other people they were just... things. But to him, they were important enough to fight for.

And he would.

* * *

Negan knew he needed to stop the bleeding and fucking fast. Reaching out with his good hand - which was starting to fucking shake - he grabbed some t-shirts and hurried folded them one handed, unzipping his jacket and reaching around and up to push two against the exit wound in his shoulder. His pack and the duffel bag held them in place while he grabbed two more to press on his front, before zipping the jacket. It was tight enough to hold them in place - for now.

"Simon!" He bellowed over the sound of gunfire and store shrapnel flying every-fucking-where. His ears were ringing and he couldn't move the arm on the side he was shot. He couldn't hear or see the other man, so it was the fucking best to assume the goddamned worst.

If Simon had been shot and was now dead, Negan was on his fucking own. Negan peeked over the shelf, eyes darting for suitable cover closest to the storeroom. He didn't know what was out in front of the store, so it was a better option to use the route he fucking knew. At least until his plans took a giant fucking nosedive into shit.

"Fuck." Several walkers were stumbling into the store from the backroom, shambling slowly towards the sounds of gunfire letting out their strangled, animalistic growls. Several were already wondering over to where he hid. Negan looked around for anything to help and found hiking boot now on the floor at his feet, speckled with his blood. He grabbed it and chucked it over in one direction as hard as he could, where it smacked into some merchandise.

The walkers gurgled and began staggering that way and once they were distracted, Negan ran as fucking quickly as he could closer to the front. It appeared that the other group had beat a hasty fucking retreat out of the shattered front windows.

He wasn't that goddamned out of it and the thought of getting his guts ripped out by undead pricks was a pretty fucking good motivator to move his ass. He limped out into the bright sunlight, squinting and wincing and he raised his good hand - bat and all to peer around. Several more walkers were staggering towards the store from who the fuck knew and -

Gunfire just barely missing him made him nearly piss and shit himself. Without thinking he sprinted as quickly as he fucking could away, ducking down an alley as bullets whizzed by, one just barely glancing off his leg from a ricochet. His frantic brain barely registered the pain as he ran. Growls from behind him let him know that several walkers were falling him and he looked around for an escape route, knowing there had to be something somewhere.

A fire escape ladder caught his gaze and Negan ran up to it, before gathering himself an leaping up to grab the lowest rung. His fingers just barely fucking brushed it on the first jump and cursed, feeling sweat trickle down his back and sting his wounds. The second jump he almost got it and the walkers entered the alley. Swearing explosively now, Negan jumped again, almost bringing the goddamned ladder down on top of him.

He shoved the bat's handle through the belt of his hunting knife and immediately, he clambered up, the walkers' cold, grasping hands reaching for his legs as he climbed up clumsily with only one hand. Heart pounding against his fucking ribs, he kept going. There was no other choice. It was do or fucking die. And he wasn't fucking dying until he was good and fucking ready.

* * *

There was blood coming out of his nose and he could taste it in his mouth from where he had bitten his cheek and tongue. Dustin smashed a fist into his mouth again and Logan stumbled back before he threw himself forwards, charging shoulder-first into Dustin's chest and bringing him down again.

He didn't register the door opening; one of his eyes where Dustin had hit him was starting to swell up. His hands hurt from where he had punched the dick, but he ignored it. At least until someone grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and hauled him off of the other boy before tossing him aside.

"What the fuck is going on here?" A harsh voice demanded, making him flinch. He stumbled to his feet and looked up to see Martin glowering at him, two men behind him.

"Oh, Dusty!" A woman ran into the trailer from behind the small group and immediately pulled Dustin into her arms, fussing over his injuries. "What happened to you, baby!?" Of course the little dickhead was hamming it up. Logan spat out a bit of blood in his mouth and glared right back.

"Well?" Martin continued to stare down at him and Logan grit his jaw, pain flaring up his face from his wounds.

"He stole my shit. I was getting it back." He growled, just now noticing Barf was in the corner looking like a mouse cornered by a whole posse of cats. Damn. Dad would've said a posse of pussies. He was shit at this.

"That's not true!" Dustin practically wailed from his spot between the woman's arms - she was most likely his aunt. Logan promptly flipped him off.

"He has my bag!" Logan shouted back, before a sharp pain on the left side of his face made him stumble to the side. He looked over to see Martin lowering his arm, looking pissed. And it just hit him - literally. The fucker had just smacked him.

"What the fuck was that for?" If he wasn't mad before was fucking furious now. He squared his shoulders and glowered, moving one hand down closer to his hunting knife. He didn't want to fight, but he again, especially since his hurt eye was closed all the way now and these people were actually people - but fuck no, he wasn't going to let the asshole hit him.

"You need to learn your place here." Martin said, voice cold and expression just as icy. "I let you and your bastard of a father here because Simon said he'd be useful. You're here because I allow it." The man's eyes narrowed. "And right now, maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should toss your little ass out now for attacking another kid. And then when your father gets back, he can join you, if there's more then five pieces of you left."

* * *

Negan climbed in through a window, landing on the floor in a painful, bloody heap. His pulse pounded in his ears and he used all of his strength to haul himself up, weaving on his feet like he was fucking drunk. Looking around, he found himself in the hall of what looked like a hotel or apartment building. With a groan, he shut the window he climbed in through and stumbled down the hall, soon coming to a door.

He tested the door knob and found it unlocked before he rapped his knuckles against the wood and listened for any sound on the otehr side of the door. There was a dragging noise and soon the scraping of nails could be heard on wood. Negan sighed wearily and stepped to one side, reaching across to open the door.

Immediately a walker stumbled through the threshold and into the hall; he could smell the rot of it like a dead animal. Using the rest of his strength, he slammed the door against the walker, making it gurgle wretchedly in fucking response. As if the fucker was protesting his 'harsh' treatment. Negan drew the door back and slammed it again and again until his strength gave out and he slumped to the floor against the hallway wall, panting.

He couldn't hear anything else and as much as he didn't want to fucking move, he did, forcing his sluggish un-fucking-cooperative body into movement again. The livingroom was spotless and the door to the bedroom was ajar. Negan closed the door to the apartment and locked it, locking the chain as well. He staggered through the stranger's home and into the darkened bathroom, dropping the duffelbag and reaching around for his pack to pull out a small first aid-kit he had.

He shrugged off his jacket and peeled off his shirt, the fabric sticking to his skin because of the blood and sweat. He sat partly on the counter and got a bottle of water and Jack Daniels out of his pack, setting them beside him. He splashed some water onto the handtowel nearby and began wiping away the sweat and blood. It hurt, but he knew it was nothing compared to what was to fucking come. God-fucking-damnit. He rolled up a spare washclothe from the basket nearby and bit into.

Bracing himself, Negan popped the Jack open and took some fortifying swigs, before dumping half of the remaining alcohol on the towel and pressing it to his back. Motherfucking cocksucking tap-fucking-dancing jizzmuffin Jesus H. Cockburger Christ. This day just kept getting fucking better and goddamned better.

* * *

"I'm sorry." Logan croaked out through a dry throat, feeling small and weak under Martin's harsh and angry glare. He lowered his eyes to the man's boots, hunching his shoulders. "Please don't." He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't cry. He wasn't a baby.

' _Don't cry, kiddo.. You got this shit..._ '

"Please let me take my stuff back and I won't do anything again." He whimpered, ashamed of how pathetic his voice sounded. Martin scoffed, but didn't protest, and Logan lifted his head to see the man jerk his chin toward where his pack lay on what he guessed was Dustin's cot.

Logan scuttled over and grabbed it, opening it to make sure everything was in it; Momma's blanket, her scarf, his Walkman, and his cassettes. That's all he cared about. He tossed the pack on his back and went to leave finding, the entrance still blocked by Martin and his men.

"This is your first and only warning, brat." Martin sneered. "I better not be dragged over to another dick-measuring contest between the two of you again. It's pathetic." Logan's face burned with embarrassment at his words. With that, he turned and walked away, his men following behind him.

"You're lucky Martin is letting you stay, you little monster." Dustin's aunt hissed at him and Logan felt his shoulders sink lower at her words. "If it were up to me, I would send you off. I don't know how that deplorable bastard of a father raised you, but we're civilized here."

Logan gave a jerky nod and beat a hasty exit, feeling his eyes burn, but he bit back the hurt and the tears. He didn't look to see if Barf was following him and he didn't care right now. He practically ran for all he was worth back towards the sleeping bag he shared with Dad and collapsed into it, finally letting the tears come.


	7. Chapter VII: Fight Fire With Fire

**Author's Note** : Trying something new and putting the AN's here instead of at the bottom. Let me know what you prefer? Doesn't matter much to me either way. I wanted to thank everyone for your time and patience while I write these chapters out. Hopefully it won't take me longer on the other chapters.

I have been considering doing a little drabble series with this AU, so if I'm a little burnt out on this, I can still put out material for you guys to read and (hopefully) enjoy while waiting for chapters on Saviors. Feel free to let me know how you feel about it. Chapter title and soundtrack is Metallica's Fight Fire With Fire.

Thanks again!

-Bubby.

 _ **Replies to Reviews:**_

 **Miss Luny** : While I'm sure being snuggled would be on the top ten list of shit he's not fond, I'm sure a quick hug would be okay with the brat if you asked first. He may act like a tough little shit, but he's still a kid.

 **Gabrielsangel23** : Trust me, Negan will not be happy about it when he hears exactly what happened. But I didn't want to shove too much in this chapter so the repercussions of that will be in the next one. Asdfghkl! Thank you! ;u; I'm so glad you continue to read and enjoy. Always a pleasure to get a review from you. :)

 **C.E.W** : Little fun fact, Martin was modeled after a character from an RP community I used to be a part of. He was a douchenozzle of a character, but the mod was so hypersensitive that any criticism of him was met with a legit tantrum. It was pretty damn funny. Negan's leadership methods are far from perfect, but every community we see in the Walking Dead has different tactics to govern their survivors. I find Negan's strategy rather interesting and I'll do my damndest to adhere to it while exploring a facet of Negan having a kid and how that'll affect shit. Thanks for the review, you're always insightful and bringing up interesting points.

* * *

Negan tossed the blood-soaked rag into the sink, before twisting his torso one way and peering at the ragged row of stitches he'd managed to give himself. He'd fucking cringed and squirmed like a little bitch the entire goddamned time. It fucking hurt like a motherfucker and he had to stop several times to stop his hands from fucking trembling.

Now that the job was done at-fucking-last, Negan heaved a shuddery breath of relief, even though his whole fucking shoulder burned with pain, he wouldn't die from bloodloss now. What a fucking plus.

Negan grabbed some gauze and medical tape from his first aid kit and after a few aggravating tries, he managed to hold the thick square of gauze against the front of his bullet wound and wrapped some tape around it once to hold it in place before doing the same to the back. He wrapped it up as well as he could, using almost all the tape and gauze to bandage his wounds.

Once done with his task, he wiped his hands off as well as he could and carefully pulled his jacket back on, wincing as his movements pulled his fucking rag-tag stitches. He grabbed his pack and the duffel bag and swung them onto his back.

His wounded shoulder protested his quick movements, but he gave it the mental middle finger, pulling the straps onto his back and gripping his bat. A quick search of the apartment gave a few moderate supplies; matches, the half empty bottle of vodka, the sewing kit, and used first-aid kit in the bathroom.

He walked quickly to the door and pressed his ear against it, waiting for any sound. Muffled voices caught his attention and Negan swore violently, backpedaling as quickly as he could into the bedroom as the steps and voices drew fucking closer. God-fucking-damnit. He didn't have the time to climb under the bed, especially with all the shit he was carrying. So he hid behind the door, where he would be hidden if it opened and pressed himself the wall as much as he could, holding his bat close and gritting his teeth.

Heavy footsteps drew nearer and he raised the bat, forcing himself to steady and quiet his breathing so he didn't fucking give himself away. The door creaked open and a man wearing a grimy jacket with the hood up stepped into the room, holding a large knife in one hand. Negan tensed and waited, until he was further into the room before leaping forwards and smashing the bat into the back of his head.

He brought the bat down one, twice, three times, before he collapsed next to the corpse with its fucking dented in head, panting. He could feel speckles of hot blood spotting his face and he swiped his arm across his cheeks, smearing the blood across his face and into his stubble. He had never felt so fucking drained in his entire fucking life, but he knew he couldn't stop now, even though he wanted nothing more then to collapse into an exhausted heap and sleep for fifty fucking years.

But that shit would not get his ass back to Logan and it wouldn't keep his son alive, like he had promised himself and Lucille. He heaved a sigh and used the bat to push himself to his feet, staggering a little as his weary body protested the actions. Bloodloss and over-fucking-exertion made him feel lightheaded and dazed. He stumbled to the door of the bedroom and opened it, stepping into the livingroom and moving through it in a fucking daze.

Light was beginning to fade as evening fell, making the rooms dim and dark. Negan stepped carefully into the hall, gripping his bat and straining every fucking sense for any sign of people, dead or alive. He opened the door and stepped into the hall, going into a crouch and moving slowly to make as little sound as he possibly fucking could.

Make it back to Lo. Kick Simon's ass for leaving him up shit creek without a fucking paddle, and make it back to Lo.

With electricity down, the elevators were a no-fucking-go. He opened the door to the stairwell carefully, wincing as the hinges creaked their goddamned objection. It was too dark to see, so he clicked the flashlight attached to his pack on. Graffiti and stains from who-the-fuck-knows-what littered the walls as he slowly made his way down the dark stairs.

* * *

After about an hour of bawling like some baby, Logan finally pushed himself up and rubbed away his tears, wincing as his face throbbed. He wished ice-packs were still a thing, or frozen peas. Momma always used one or the other when he got hurt or something. The best he had was a bottle of water.

Pulling his backpack close, he got out some water and a washcloth, splashing the water on the small towel and wiping it over his face. He bit back whimpers and curses as his injuries stung, wiping at his nose and mouth until blood stopped running. He tossed it away with a sigh and rested his chin on his knees, still pissed and hurting. He wished Dad would hurry the fuck up and get home so he could ask them if they could leave. Fuck this place. He'd rather deal with Walkers then people like this.

A commotion outside caught his attention for a few seconds, and he fought with himself about how much he curious he was about what the hell was going on. Finally, curiousity won out and he pushed himself to his feet, grabbed his pack - just in case - and draged his feet out the doors of the warehouse.

Simon and Martin were standing in front of a beaten black pick up with several bullet holes along the sides and a smashed fender up front, where the light was hanging out like a Walker's eye. Several people, scavenger and civilian alike, were standing around watching as the two men spoke in loud, angry voices. But the only thing Logan cared about was the fact that his Dad was nowhere to be seen.

"We got ambushed and seperated by these fucks." Simon panted, his receding hair sticking up in odd places and blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. "I had to get the fuck outta there. I had to fucking leave Negan behind."

It was like someone had dumped him a tub of ice cold water and held him under. Voices were muffled and he felt like his legs had turned to jiggly as fuck jello. He wanted to throw up. He swallowed down bile in his throat and walked forwards, pushing through two people.

"You left my Dad?" He asked, the words hurting his throat as they scraped out, like sandpaper. "Why...? The fuck..?" His head was swimming with questions, each one kicking and flailing to be spoken first. "Simon...?"

"I'm sorry, kiddo." The man said, shaking his head and avoiding his eyes, keeping them on the ground near Logan's feet. "We met another group, we tried to keep things peaceful, but they shot him, shot at us, and we got seperated in the gunfight and I had to get out of there. "

"What the fuck?" Logan whispered through a closed throat, choked with confusion and anger. "You couldn't have helped him?" He wished Simon was shorter so he could punch him right in his stupid mustached face. "He wouldn't have left you!"

"I know, kiddo." Simon mumbled, finally looking up at him. HIs brow creased as he took note of the kid's battered appearance, black eye, busted lip, and blood still staining his lip from his nose. "We'll go back and find him. I promise."

"Alright. Let's go." Logan said, taking a step towards the black truck. Fuck this shit, he was gonna find his Dad and they were going to get the hell out of here. He hated it here. He wished he and Dad hadn't been found by Simon. They could find somewhere else, maybe even take Barf with them so he wouldn't have to deal with Dustin.

"Hold your horses there, chief." The man in question held his hands out, palms up, to stop him in his tracks while Martin glared at them. "I know you're worried. I am too." Logan narrowed his eyes glaring at Simon as he talked, not wanting to believe the older man. "I swear to you. First thing in the morning." He kneeled down to get on Logan's level, instead of looking down at him like he was some stupid kid that didn't understand what this whole shitstorm meant. "I'm going to go find him and I won't come back until I do."

Logan stared him down, shoulders set, even as he felt trembles of fear and worry shudder over him. He felt weak and sad, even more then when Dustin had stolen his shit and Martin had smacked him. But he knew, somehow in his gut, that Simon was being honest, and felt bad about leaving his Dad behind. Simon might have made a mistake, but he was trying.

"Okay." He let his tense shoulders relax, dropping them in defeat as the fight left his tired body. He just wanted to curl up in a little ball and wake up to his old life. Where Momma was alive, Dad's biggest worry was football season and things were simpler and easier. Simon rested a hand on his shoulder and Logan let him, feeling selfish for allowing himself to be comforted by the gesture. He set his jaw stubbornly before he spoke again, determined to show the other survivor that he wasn't a little baby that could be distracted. "I'm coming with you. We're leaving in the morning. And we're bringing him back."

Simon nodded, a faint smile showing beneath his mustache before he replied. "Ya got it, boss."

* * *

An arm wrapped around Negan's neck, jerking him back. His first instinct was to tug away, but a second, more fucking primal one, encouraged him to go with his gut and toss his weight backwards, smashing his attacker into the wall behind him. A grunted curse told him it was a living human and he didn't wait before jerking his elbow back repeatedly, slamming it into the other male over and over again.

He couldn't smack the back of his head against his attacker's face - the backpack and duffel bag he had strapped to him was in the way - but he did his goddamned best to throw the fucker off. He could feel the man's grip around him slipping and at its weakest, he threw himself forward, stumbling somewhat before recovering his footing and whirling around and bring his baseball bat to bear. It hit the side of the other male's face with a smash and crack of bone, sending him to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Negan muffled a cough in the sleeve of his jacket, staring down at the man to make sure he wouldn't attack him again before he moved on, creeping through the deserted halls of the apartment building he had taken shelter. His fucking exhausted mind flickered over the possibilities of where the best place to find some goddamned rest would be and best option he could think of would be the manager's office. Of course, he had no fucking idea where that would be, but he had the idea that would be close to the main floor stuck to his brain like fucking glue.

Rolling his shoulders and mind goddamned made up, he kept on fucking keeping and continued down the endless line of shitty stairs towards the ground floor. He could feel and hear his pulse pounding loudly in his ears between his harsh gasps as he panted for air. He was so tired, he was practically dragging his baseball bat on the floor behind him as he walked. He halted as he came to the landing that indicated ground-level and leaned against the door, listening intently.

"Where the fuck is this asshole?"

"No fucking clue."

"He fuckin' beat the shit outta Pete and beat it."

"I haven't seen Harry or Greg around either."

"How many guys has this fucker taken out?"

Not e-fucking-nough, apparently. Negan's whole body jerked and he bit back a curse, gripping his baseball bat and leaning closer to the door. He gripped the handle with one hand, readying himself to hold it shut, if he could.

He glanced around the dim cement landing for something to brace against the door, but there was nothing but dust and fucking dead spiders. His mind raced over other ideas, because he knew it was only a matter of time before they tried to open the door.

No electricity, no elevators. This was the only fucking way up or down and the fuckers goddamned knew it. He was fucking fucked no matter what the fuck he did. But maybe remaining on the defensive wasn't his best bet. These fuckers were scared of him, and he could definite-fucking-ly use that to his advantage in the shituation he found himself in.

Thinking fast, he shifted to bring his backpack up closer, tucking the baseball bat's handle between his elbow and body and fishing around inside it for the bottle of vodka and the matches he had found earlier. A strip from a tattered clothe was shoved into the bottle and his hands fumbled over the matches as motherfucking nerves set in. He couldn't believe he was about to do this shit, but he had to do what he had to do.

He lit the end and shoved the matches into his pocket, before shrugging the backpack into its former place and getting his baseball bat in hand once more, where it fucking belonged. Taking a deep, bracing breath and steeling himself for what was to come, he pulled the handle down, just enough to depress the lock and brought the bat against the metal door with three hard, resounding bangs.

"Little pigs, little pigs! Let me come in!" He didn't bother waiting for a response, knowing that every second he delayed was another second they had to hand his ass to him back on a silver platter. He kicked the door in like the goddamned Kool-Aid fucker and pitched the bottle at them, aiming for the fuckers at the center of the five-men group.

It hit one square in the fucking head, sending flaming vodka and glass everywhere in a fiery explosion. Three of the five got caught in the flames, fire soon licking at their clothing and skin. Negan charged forwards as soon as he saw an opening, slamming the baseball bat into one man's skull and whipping around to smack the gun out of the other man's hand and sending it clattering against the fake-wood floors. The fucker cursed, clutching his injured fingers before Negan ended his bitching and moaning with a crack across the face.

One of the flaming men were down on the floor, writhing in agony. The second had managed to shrug off his jacket and backpack was was aiming his gun at Negan before the bat was brought down on his arms, making him howl in pain and drop it. Negan kicked his leg out from under him and slammed the bat down on the fucker's head.

A gurgle came from behind him and he turned to see the man that had collapsed to the floor was no dragging himself to his feet, letting out gasping growls as it lurched towards Negan. He swung the bat once more, sending the recently turned walker to the fucking floor.

Looking at the carnage around him, Negan felt oddly indifferent to the death and destruction he had just wreaked. Maybe he could feel some sympathy to ending another man's life, painfully and brutally, but that was about it. A faint sense of 'that was too damn bad', but nothing else stirred, leaving his chest feeling hollow.

Maybe he was just too fucking tired and on edge to feel anything right fucking now. He knew it was all about survival right now, and to survive in this new dog-eat-dog world he needed to be something that would send all the other dogs howling for the motherfucking hills in complete and utter pant-pissing terror.

Negan wiped his face off on his dirty sleeve, smeering blood and sweat across his face. He walked past the still bodies of the men he had killed in cold blood without feeling a goddamned thing, walking towards a door that was labeled Manager. He brought the baseball bat up again and rapped it against the door three times. He rested his forehead against the cool wood and closed his eyes, gathering his waning focus and honing it to a razor sharp edge.

There was no room for mistakes in this new world; mistakes and stupidity got you killed. Negan's weary mind flashed images of Audrey, Malcolm, Francis, and Elizabeth in his head and he felt his lips twist back in anger and disappointment. He had liked them, there was no fucking lying about that. But they didn't - couldn't - adjust to this cruel, bloody life. They were too soft, too weak, too human. In this world, you had to leave that side of you behind. People would take advantage of it and walkers would chew you up and spit you out.

He opened the door and stepped into the room, lit by a window placed high on one wall, where fading orange light from the setting sun fell on a dusty desk and office chair, a couch shoved against the wall, a mini-fridge, and a bookshelf. He shut the door behind him, fucking exhaustion weighing his shoulders down as he propped a chair under the handle and locked it. He dropped the duffel bag and backpack on the floor, and then dragged himself to the couch and flopped onto it. His eyes fell shut as everything faded in a comforting, painless darkness.

* * *

"C'mon, kiddo." Logan looked up as Simon gazed down at him sympathetically, offering a small smile that was mostly hidden by his dumb mustache. "Let's get your face looked at."

"As long as I don't end up with a mustache like yours, sure." Simon chuckled as he led him away from the courtyard. Logan followed in his footprints, stepping in the mud where Simon did out of sheer boredom and not really wanting to admit that having someone to help him take care of shit sounded really nice right now. He missed Dad, and wished he'd gone with him to go scavanging. None of this shit would be happening if he and Dad weren't split up.

"Hey..." Simon's voice startled him and looked up, scrubbing at his stinging eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "It's gonna be okay. Your Dad... He's a tough sonuvabitch. I can goddamned tell. We'll find him." The tall man offered a smile and Logan gave a tiny one back. "C'mon." He waved one hand, gesturing for Logan to follow him and he did, falling into step beside him. "If we're gonna be up at the asscrack of dawn looking for him, we'll need our shuteye."

Logan didn't really sleep well, tossing and turning while his mind raced nonstop. Simon had helped him with his eye, finding some cool water to help it, but it was still sore and he sported a dark bruise near his cheek.

He was used to staying with his Dad, and it felt weird as shit not having him close. Eventually, he gave up on sleep as light started to grow through the blinds on the window. He picked himself up off the floor and trotted over to where Simon was sleeping on a couch, one arm hanging off as he snored into a pillow.

"Simon." He shook the man by his shoulder, taking a step back as the older man jerked out of his sleep. "Enough beauty rest. We gotta get Dad. Now."

"O-okaaaaay." Simon groaned through a yawn, stretching himself out with a couple of pops coming from his back and knees. He looked towards the window and then checked his watch before frowning at Logan. "It's not even mornin' yet." He mumbled, pressing his face back into the pillow. "Five more minutes."

"I will slap that dumb mustache off your dumb face, I swear to God."

"Then who'll drive your chunky little ass out there to look for your old man, chief?" Simon asked, cracking a single eye open to look at Logan, his mustache askew and one eyebrow raised towards his receding hairline.

"I could drive if I wanted to." Logan grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up a little. "But you lost my Dad, so you're gonna help me go find him."

"Alright, alright." Simon groused, pushing himself up and throwing his long legs to the side, stretching his arms and then rolling his shoulders. "Grab your shit and we'll go running to the rescue."

Logan didn't give up bugging Simon until he finally got his shit together and grabbed his gear. Then they headed out to the courtyard where the survivors kept the few vehicles that they could find and keep running. They didn't take the black pick-up that Simon and Dad had taken before, instead going for a silver toyota with Louisiana plates.

Logan pulled himself into the passenger seat and closed the door, watching as Simon was flagged down by Martin. He pointed to Logan and when Martin looked at him, Logan flipped him off with a scowl. Simon seemed to find it pretty funny, but Martin obviously didn't, his face growing flushed with anger.

Simon quickly finished talking to the asshole (AKA Martin) and jumped into the car, keys jangling from his hand. He flashed Logan a cheerful grin before he started up the car and they drove through the gates an down the road. Logan looked out the window, feeling his stomach flop nervously as he thought about Dad and if he was hurt. Or even still alive.

What would he do if Dad got bit by walkers? Or hurt so badly while running away he died from it? Or got shot by more people? Simon had already said that he had been shot once, but the way he put it sounded like it maybe wasn't that bad?

Logan pressed his forehead against the window and took his walkman out of its baggie, unrolling the headphones and putting them on. The sound only came from one side, but Led Zeppelin immediately made him feel calmer. Dad liked Led Zep, so it kinda helped having something that made him feel closer, especially when Dad felt so far away.

He didn't wanna think about Dad being dead though. The idea of it, not having him around anymore, hurt like hell. More then Dustin's punches. It felt almost like watching Momma die all over again. Except he didn't know what was worse, actually seeing Momma become a walker or losing Dad and having no clue what happened.

He didn't know what he was scared of more; losing Dad or winding up all alone.

* * *

 _Negan woke up in his bed, eyes drifting open as the fucking sunlight hit them. The curtains blew gently in a breeze he didn't fucking feel on his skin. Nothing felt like any-fucking-thing; there was no hot or cold; he was just there._

 _He was sitting up before he even realized it, there was no thought to it, he just did it. He moved his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, looking around at his old bedroom in his old house. He didn't register that the edges were blurry and things seemed to be bathed in light, like someone had overexposed an old camera image. Brief images of his grandmother showing him how to do it came to his mind, hazy and barely-there._

 _A sound from down the hall, in the kitchen, and he tensed, looking around for his bat and found it laying on the dresser nearby. He picked it up, feeling the familiar grain of the worn wood beneath his fingers and palms and the weight of it. He twirled it once, testing it, even though he wasn't sure why._

 _Shaking his head, Negan headed down the hall, slowly, glimpsing some pictures of him, Lucille, and Logan hanging from the walls in one big collaboration that Lucille and he had spent days arguing over which pictures should go where and why. He stared at them for several endless minutes, lost in memories he had taken for granted and would pay anything to bring back to life._

 _"Negan?"_

 _He startled, whipping around and raising the bat. To find Lucille standing before him, a soft, sad smile on her face. The bat fell from Negan's nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor._

 _"... Lucille..." His knees felt weak as he looked down at her, reaching up with one hand that was shaking like a motherfucker to touch her cheek. She was just like he remembered, before cancer had fucking drained her of her life and left her a shell of her former self. Her long, dark hair fell in waves down her back, framing her face highlighting her light grey eyes. "... Fucking hell, baby..."_

 _"I know." She said simply and he knew she understand every-fucking-thing he felt and had gone through. "You've been so strong, sweetheart."_

 _"I fucking haven't, baby. I fucking didn't." He rasped, feeling like his heart was cracking open in his chest, leaving a hollow goddamned ache behind. "I fucking couldn't- I can't.. I-"_

 _Lucille's hands gently cradled his head, tugging him gently until his body crumpled against her and he started sobbing into her hair. Soft hands stroked through his hair and along his back, comforting him as he cried like a goddamned baby._

 _"You have..." She said, her voice tender, but absol-fucking-lute. "I'm so proud of you." She pressed a kiss against his forehead as he started to calm down; he only felt a little ashamed that her words soothed him so much and so fucking quickly. But then again, he was a grown ass man, he shouldn't have been crying into her hair any-fucking-ways. He straightened up, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "You're alive. Our baby is alive. You've protected him, you'll always protect him, and he'll always protect you." She gave a proud smile, eyes glowing with pride. "My brave boys."_

 _"...Baby.." She leaned up to press a loving kiss to his lips and he fell willingly silent, wrapping his arms around her slender form and pulling her close, before mumbling lowly against her soft, delicious lips. "I miss you, doll."_

 _"I know." Lucille said, shifting to lay her head against his chest, her arms finding their way around him as well. "I miss you too." She pulled away from him and he let out something like a fucking whine, not wanting to let her fucking go. Lucille's hand brushed against his cheek tenderly and Negan sighed softly, reluctantly releasing his grip on her and letting his arms drop to his sides. "I love you, Negan. I'll always love you and I'll always be with you." Lucille bent and picked up the bat, running her hands over it, as if making sure it was undamaged or some shit. She handed it to him, and he took it, taking solace in the familiar weight and feel of it in his hands._

 _"I love you too, Lucy." He croaked, reaching up to scrub at his eyes aggressively with one hand. Buck the fuck up, motherfucker, goddamn it. Lucille smiled at him and gave him one last kiss on the lips, letting it linger for a endless second he wanted to last for-fucking-ever._

 _"I love you. But I don't want to see you come back to me for a long, long fucking time, sweetheart." She said, and somehow the distance between them had grown. "I want you to live. I want you to fight. Not just for me. Not just for Logan. For yourself. For you both." Her form began to dissolve into the white light that grew brighter and brighter around him, making his eyes squint and water. "When you're ready. Come back to me. Promise?"_

 _"I promise." He whimpered out, voice cracking as he fought back to keep more fucking tears from falling._

 _"Good." She was completely gone now and all around him was light and he looked around desperately for her, but he saw fucking nothing. It was only him and the bat that she had handed back to him, still warm from her hands. "Now wake-up, Negan."_

 _"What?" He asked, more fucking confused then ever before. "What the fuckity fuck do you mean?"_

 _"Wake up."_

* * *

Negan jerked awake, soaked in sweat and panting. His eyes darted frantically around in a desperate fucking search for Lucille. He could almost taste her on his lips and feel the phantom warmth of her hands on his chest and arms. But there was nothing but the dim, unfamiliar surroundings of the manager's office in the apartment complex he had taken shelter in. He was sprawled on the dusty, dilapidated sofa, his body stiff and sore.

His gaze fell on the bat laying on the floor near him and Negan reached over with a fucking shaking hand to pick it up, the wood cool and comforting against the fevered heat of his skin.

"... Lucille..." He mumbled softly, ex-fucking-hausted brain unhelpfully flashing the images of his dream back to him and making his resolve waver like a tree in a fucking twister. He ran his other hand over his sweaty face and shook himself off, squaring his shoulders and pushing himself slowly to his feet. His whole body ached and his sewed up gunshot wound burned with agony, but determination blazed through him like fire.

He had known his purpose before, but it was made even more clear to him now. He would survive. Lucille wanted him to live. Live until it was his time. "I can fucking do that." He rasped, voice sounding raw and rough in his ears. Fuck, he had been doing that; hanging onto survival with tooth and goddamned nail like a desperate animal.

He stumbled to his feet, still feeling fucking out of it from bloodloss. Judging from the sunlight outside, it was late morning, maybe nearing the afternoon. Fuck, had he really slept the entire goddamned night? He could see the sports store through the grimy window by standing on the couch and his heart nearly goddamned stopped at the sight of several trucks parked out front.

"Looks like the goddamned cavalry is here." He growled, a niggling feeling in his gut telling him these fuckers weren't going to be on his side. "Time to get the fuck outta here." He grabbed his bags, pulling them onto his back and heading towards the door. He paused, listening to the outside sounds for walkers or people, before slipping out side into the dim hallways.

* * *

Logan looked at Simon as he scowled at the mass of vehicles blocking the inbound highway headed towards the city. They sat bumper to bumper sideways across the road in two rows. And something about it definitely was bothering Simon and Logan had a pretty good idea about what it was.

"These weren't here when you guys came through last time were they?" He asked, rolling his headphones up and shoving the walkman in its bag. Simon gave a grunt, nodding, his brows still bunched up and worried looking. "What're we gonna do?"

"We need to keep the car in case we gotta haul ass." Simon mumbled, rubbing at his chin as he thought things over. "We'll go around. Do me a favor and keep your eyes peeled for anything outta the ordinary."

"More unordinary then dead people eating live ones?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He wasn't a baby; he knew that if they saw other people, chances were they weren't the good guys. He was hoping it wouldn't come to a fight, but he was realizing that he would. He didn't like it, but to get Dad back, he'd fight anyone.

"Little smartass." Simon snorted, turning the steering wheel to drive the car through the grass and the back onto the road, still headed to the city. "You talk to your old man like this?"

"Worse actually. I'm being polite now. Most times I call Dad an asshole." Logan said with a small smile, before he reached out and opened the glove box as Simon drove along. He played with a flashlight for a few seconds finding only that and a owner's manuel. "Or a dick or something. Since he talks about dicks a lot." Simon let out a guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Logan sighed and flopped against the side of the door, feeling sadness wash over him. "Are you sure Dad's gonna be okay?"

"Positive. He's probably on his way back right now. You watch. He'll be bitching at us for taking so long to get to him." Logan laughed a little, feeling lighter and like he could breath so much better. "Either that or the bastard is already back and we're just wasting the gas."

"Yeah... That sounds like him." Logan said, still smiling while he looked out the window watching streets and buildings roll slowly by. He hesitated for a moment, looking at Simon's reflection in the window before he glanced over at him. "... Thanks..." A flash of movement caught his eyes and he sat up straighter in the seat. A second too late, he realized what it was; a truck zooming down the road that led to a shopping center. "Simon! Look out!"

The truck screeched through an empty intersection before it smashed into the side of their car, sending them skidding down the road. The seatbelt dug into his shoulder as he was rattled around like a marble in a can. The honda smashed through the front of a restaurant and hit the check out counter, coming to a stop.

Logan groaned, shifting in the seat while his body screamed in pain at him. He agreed, but his throat felt closed and like he couldn't make a sound. All he could do was slowly move little after little to make sure that nothing was broken. He was sore and really, really dizzy, but other then that, he was fine. He looked over at Simon and could tell that the man probably felt the same as he did.

"You okay?" He groaned as Simon reached up slowly to rub at his head, looking dazed. Logan couldn't blame him. It felt like his brain had been rattled around.

"Y-yeah. Still in one piece." The man said, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his pack. "C'mon, kid. We gotta get the hell outta here." He said, opening the door, which screeched in protest. Logan threw off his own seatbelt and opened the door, only to see some strange man in grubby clothes trying to grab him.

"Shit! Simon!" He yelled, as he tried to scramble backwards using his hands, desperate to get away from the fucker. "Leave me alone you dickhead!" He growled, kicking at the man's hands and reaching for the knife at his hip. "Simon!" The man grabbed his ankle and started dragging him to the door and he let out a loud yelp, scrabbling desperately for anything to hold on to. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

The hard grip around his leg was there and then it was suddenly gone. He looked over to see Simon dragging the shithead off of him, punching him in the nose and sending him staggering back. Making sure his pack was on his back where it belonged, Logan jumped down from the driver-side door. His body hurt, but he ignored the pain, running around the front of car, pulling the knife from its sheath stabbing the shithead in the back.

The scream the man let out sent a chill down his back, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He felt like he wanted to throw up. It was one thing to punch the ever loving shit out of a douchbag like Dustin, it was something else to stab the shit out of some fuck.

The bang of a gun going off made him flinch and look down, expecting to see red on his jacket, but there was nothing. Looking up, he saw Simon holding his gun, glaring down at the now dead man. The older man gave a heavy huff before looking over at him, brows bunched up.

"Shit, kiddo. You alright?"

"I thi-think so." He panted in response, still not believing he hadn't been hit. "I stabbed the shit outta that guy." He added, stating the obvious, but he felt like he had to say something about it. Wasn't hurting someone that bad a big deal? "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Simon gave a short nod. "You got him good." He gestured with the gun towards the emergency exit in the back and Logan nodded, still holding his hunting knife so hard his fingers were starting to hurt. "C'mon, kiddo. Let's roll. You can tell your Dad all about it when we find him."

* * *

Negan cursed as he pondered what the ever-loving fuck he was gonna do now, watching as men milled around the trucks, some taking supplies and others guarding the vehicles. Whenever any walkers appeared, they were put down with knives or other melee weapons to minimize any fucking sounds the group made while they got their shit and no doubt searched for him.

"Fuck." He muttered. He knew he had to make enough of a distraction to to keep the fuckers occupied and then skirt around and steal a truck. All without getting his goddamned ass handed to him and then get the fuck outta here and back to his kid. "Easy peasy, fucking lemon squeezy." He grumbled sarcastically to himself. He had moved to one of the first floor apartments of the complex and had been watching the group for any patterns in their movements. All he had to do was find a good moment.

Hopefully, noticing that their newly dispatched friends had been newly dispatched and left in the goddamn lobby, they would send in more. If he was lucky, they would leave only a few shitheads to guard the cars and he could snag one and make a fucking run for it. It was just a waiting game. Negan was goddamned good at waiting games.

He watched one guy come running up to the group, interests fucking piqued as the others seemed to become nervous, gathering around to hear what the new guy was fucking going on about. Apparently, whatever news he had wasn't good. Several men reacted in ways that could only be described as 'motherfucking pissed'. Negan found himself smirking as he watched the silent scene unfold in front of him before it faded slightly as several men got into a big truck and peeled down the street like a goddamn bat outta fucking hell.

Something was fucking up. And Negan wasn't sure he was gonna like the results.

But this was the moment he had been waiting for and fuck no he was not gonna waste it like some dumbass. Gathering his strength, he pulled open the window and climbed up into it, bracing himself. Below was a large green garbage dumpster with the lids down. It would be a simple jump down, run across a couple of alleys, then circling back to one of the cars in the back of the line, a simple hotwire job if the keys weren't there and he'd be home-fucking-free.

He did just fucking that, moving as quietly as he fucking could, even as his feet dragged sluggishly across the pavement and his body felt heavy with exhaustion he was barely fighting off. The baseball bat he carried was a reassuring weight in his hand as he stalked along. The gunshot wound in his shoulder burned with a dull, throbbing pain along with with his pulse, but it gave him something to focus on. At least pain let him know he was still goddamn kicking.

Peering around the edge of an alley, his eyes found a green SUV waiting for him. Smirking again, Negan drew closer, grateful that it was unguarded. But he knew he couldn't get fucking cocky. Being cocky got you fucking dead and he wasn't fucking dying today goddamn it.

A careful look around ensured that the fucker in charge of looking after the cars had his back turned to the open road leading towards the city in the distance. Negan snuck across the road in a running crouch, hiding near the trunk and peaking out to make sure that he hadn't been spotted.

He slowly moved around the side of the car, whole body tense as fuck until he reached the driver's door. One more check with his breath fucking held before he opened the door and tossed his bags inside as fucking quickly as he could before throwing himself into the driver's seat.

He slammed the door shut behind him. A quick look around confirmed that they had left the keys in the ignition, no doubt for a quick fucking getaway if shit hit the fan. The car rumbled to life as he turned the key and Negan grinned to himself, beating the wheel in sheer fucking joy. God-fucking-damn!

The tires ground against the pavement as he cranked the wheel, before screeching as he slammed his foot on the pedal. He could hear muffled angry shouts and shots pinging off the tarmac and the car's metal sides. But there was fucking nothing the bastards could do.

"Eat shit assholes!" He crowed. About damn time things went his fucking way. The car shook as he drove it onto the sidewalk, taking out a parking meter so he could skirt around a tank sitting in the goddamned way with large wooden road blocks on either side.. Another shuddering bump and the car screeched across the pavement as he made his escape, flipping the fuckers off through the open window.

* * *

Logan stood on his tiptoes on a bridge near a park, looking out on a river, arms resting on the wall's top as he watched Simon peer down the road.

"Someone stole one of their cars." The other man muttered, sounding like he found the idea pretty funny. Logan had to agree, giggling to himself slightly.

"I bet you two million dollars it's Dad." He smiled, jumping up slightly as excitement rushed through him. "Let's go, let's go, let's go! Before he leaves town and we're stuck here with these bags of dicks."

"Okay, okay, kid." Simon chuckled, grabbing his rifle and starting to head towards the road. "He's headed this way, so we can wait until he comes to us and just flag..." He came to a halt and Logan looked at him curiously.

"What the fuck is going on?" He asked, coming to stand next to Simon and seeing just exactly what the fuck was going on. "Shit."

Miles away down the road what looked like a sea of walkers were stumbling towards the city, following the interstate into town. And Dad was headed right towards them.

"C'mon, kid." Simon said, thumping Logan's shoulder as he stood frozen, stomach full of ice and blood running cold. "If we hurry, we can catch him."

They ran as quickly as they could along the empty sidewalks past dark buildings. When Dad had stolen the car, he was closer to the city since the sporting store Simon had told him they raided was on the outskirts.

Logan could feel his lungs aching as he followed Simon. They'd already caught the attention of some walkers, who were now following them as they hurried down the road. Simon skidded to a stop near a police car with busted out windows and blood smeared on one side. He peered inside and nodded, before waving a hand at Logan.

"C'mon. We'll move some cars in his way." He panted, even his mustache looked winded from their frantic dash. "He'll see the way is blocked and stop. We catch him, victory dance, and get the hell outta dodge."

"Sounds good." Logan said, opening the door and reaching in to crank the steering wheel to help. "C'mon. I steer, you push." They moved three cars, stopping to down walkers that were drawn to their movements. Logan was soaked in sweat by the second car, his injuries from the fight with Dustin stinging. But he wouldn't stop, he couldn't. Dad had been shot and he was still kicking ass and taking names. Logan could move some cars and stab the shit out of some walkers.

"Easy peasy, fucking lemon squeezy."

* * *

Negan sped down the vacant interstate, abandoned stores, apartments, and other buildings he did not give two fucks about on either side. However, a line of dark objects in the rapidly approaching distance had him pressing the brake pedal down.

They were cars, pushed across the road, with two figures sitting on the police car in the middle. Negan felt his heart goddamn stop, and then speed right the fuck up as he recognized the smaller person in the red hoodie waving at him.

"Holy fuck." He muttered, shaking his head as the car rolled to a stop. He opened the door and stepped out, Almost immediately, he stumbled back as Logan practically leapt into his fucking arms. Not that he was fucking complaining; he clung to the kid like a goddamned lifeline, holding him close. "Logan..."

"Hey Dad..." Logan mumbled into his chest, face hidden in the heavy black jacket he wore. "Can we go home now, please?" Negan looked over the top of Logan's head to see Simon standing nearby, thumbs tucked into the loops of his jeans and a sheepish smile under his mustache.

Negan gave the other man a grateful nod. Simon may have left him behind, but Negan didn't hold it against him. He would have done the fucking same if their positions had been switched. The man had come back, when he didn't have to. And while Negan knew that Logan had had something to do with that without a goddamn doubt, he was still thankful.

"Yeah. Let's go home, kid."

"Yeah... About that." Simon muttered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "We're gonna have a whole shitload of company, boss." He said. "Got a huge herd headed this way. Any bright ideas?"

"One." Negan said with a grin, looking at the police car. "You got any jumper cables?" Simon's slow grin under his mustache was his answer, shrugging his backpack off and pulling the red and black cables from a plastic case. "Good."

Negan drove the green car closer to the police cruiser while Simon popped the hood. Logan sat in the driver's seat of the car Negan had stolen, just fucking barely peering over the dashboard while Negan hooked up the two cars. He didn't know much about cars, but this was pretty basic goddamned info he had used plenty of times.

Simon hot-wired the police car while Logan started their car. Within ten minutes, the donut-mobile rumbled to life. It took a few seconds to find the switches for the lights and sirens, but soon enough the police car was wailing in the middle of the street, flashing red, white, and blue lights across the abandoned road.

"I always wanted to drive one of those." Logan said wistfully when they climbed into the green car, moving to the backseat.

"Maybe some day we can find you one." Negan chuckled, before ruffling Logan's hair teasingly. "Or maybe even a firetruck or a choo choo train." He added in a joking voice, like Logan was a fucking baby.

"Shut up, dick. Or we'll just leave you." The kid rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

* * *

Simon drove them home, while Negan and Logan flopped into the back seat, leaning against each other, completely fucking exhausted. Negan had immediately taken note of Logan's beat appearance - the black eye and bruises - but had decided to hold off on questioning the kid. He'd get answers later, right now he just wanted to rest.

Logan was snoring quietly against his side, clinging to Negan's jacket with one hand. Negan ran a hand over of the kid's hair while he sat.

They arrived back at Railyards just as the sun was setting and the green car hit empty on the gas tank. Negan gathered Logan's limp, heavy form in his arms, groaning as he did so. The brat kept sleeping, motionless as a rock, and Simon chuckled before shaking his head.

"I'll get your bags for ya." He said, getting Negan's backpack, the duffel bag from the sporting goods store, and Logan's smaller red and black backpack. "One of the ladies here knows some basic first aid, I'll get her." He said, stepping past Negan and jerking his head. "This way. You guys can bunk up with me."

"Why?" Negan asked, not following the mustachioed man yet. Simon didn't really seem that surprised by his question, a small smile growing under his mustache.

"I owe you. Both of you." He said softly before offering an almost teasing grin. "But if you don't wanna take me up on my more than generous offer, then feel free to head back to your bunks in the communal warehouse. Just thought I'd be nice and offer."

"What-the-fuck-ever." Negan grumbled, moving to follow the Luigi-looking motherfucker. He was too fucking exhausted to argue. He shifted Logan closer, noting with amusement that the kid was actually snoring even louder and followed the other man. "Just letting you know I haven't had a fucking roomate since I was in goddamned college."

"Well, I suppose if you don't snore louder then the kid, we'll get along fine."


	8. Chapter VIII: End of the Beginning

**Author's Note** : I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry for the delay on this. Things have just been a little hectic. Thank you very much for your time, patience, and understanding for my lack of updates. I'll try not to do that again. Chapter Title and soundtrack is End of the Beginning by Black Sabbath. I hope it's not poor form to ask for some more feedback or reviews on this? It'd help keep me motivated. Please and thank you very much.

Response to Reviews:

gabrielsangel23: Eeeeee! Thank you! I really hope you like this chapter and continue to enjoy. I always look forwards to your reviews. :D

* * *

A loud fucking thumping against the door roused Negan from a dead sleep, and he grumbled to himself as he glared at the door. Simon had managed to scrounge up a cot for him and Logan, which they now shared. A solid weight on his chest told him that the aforementioned brat was still passed right the fuck out and snoring softly with his face buried in Negan's chest.

"Goddamnit, Simon, open up!" Martin's irritated voice barked, muffled from the wood and followed by several more loud thumps as he banged his fist against the flimsy door of the trailer.

"... Dad... Wha'sthat?" Logan mumbled sleepily into Negan's shoulder, not even opening his eyes. "Tell 'em to shut the fuck up.." Negan groaned and shook his head, saying he had no goddamned idea and trying to make whoever was banging against the door disappear by sheer force of fucking will.

"Hold your horses." Simon grumbled, sitting up and then stumbling over his shoes towards the door. Logan looked up from Negan's chest, making a sleepy sound like a tired puppy and cracking his eyes open drowsily. The other man opened the door to reveal the red-faced form of Martin. "Where's the fire?" He asked around a jaw cracking yawn.

"Took you long enough." The asshole leader of Railyards sneered, stepping into the trailer and looking around, evidently un-fucking-impressed. His cold blue eyes fell onto Negan and he sat up straighter, scowling, watching Logan out of the corners of his eyes. The kid mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes with one hand while he leaned against Negan's side. "You and I need to talk."

"It couldn't fucking wait?" Negan growled, not in the goddamned mood to deal with Martin's complete bullshit; his whole body was still aching from yesterday's shitstorm of events. He threw his legs over the side of the cot and stood up, looking over at Logan who shrugged out of his blankets and followed fucking suit.

"No." Martin folded his arms across his chest, still wearing his signature 'I'm about to shit myself I'm so mad' scowl and green military jacket. "It's about the shit your son got into the second you were gone on that run."

"That wasn't my fault." Logan protested, pulling on his red hoodie and hunching his shoulders up defensively. He sounded upset and that set the alarms bell to a-fucking-ringing in Negan's head. "Dustin started it!"

"You better pick your next words fucking carefully." Negan growled, stepping closer and glowering down at Martin, his fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. "Because I did not have a good fucking day yesterday, I am tired as shit, and seeing your pissy little bitch-face first thing in the fucking morning - without fucking breakfast, mind you - while you accuse my son of shit is not fucking helping."

"Your brat attacked another kid the other day." Martin snapped and Negan instantly rolled his eyes, reaching up with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as a headache built up in his skull. It was way too fucking early to be dealing with this horseshit, especially without some painkillers in his fucking system.

"I just punched him a little." Logan grumbled, hunching his shoulders. His eye was still bruised and a little puffy, but the swelling had started to fade down last night.

"What did the other little brat do?" Negan asked, glancing back from Logan who was glowering at Martin and back to aforementioned shithead. "He's a little spitfuck, but he doesn't do that shit over nothing." Martin blinked at him, like he couldn't believe that Negan wasn't just going to believe Logan had lost his shit for no reason.

"I don't tolerate in-fighting here." The man snarled, some spit landing on Negan's cheek, which he brushed off with exaggerated slowness. He could feel a molten fury start to settle in the pit of his stomach, building hotter and hotter the more shit spewed out of Martin's piehole. "I understand that things might have been do or die out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but here we're trying to rebuild a life, a community, a civilization here. And you and your son have already endangered it by picking fights with other survivors and assaulting fellow community members here."

"What the fuckity fuck are you on and where the fuck can I get some?" He growled, stepping closer into Martin's personal space and leaning down to glare into his eyes. "Did you even bother to hear the kid's side of the story or did you just fucking decide that he was guilty and fuck anyone who says otherwise?"

"Martin." Simon spoke up for the first time, looking like he had no goddamned clue what to think of this whole fucking shituation. "I really think that might be a helluva overreaction." He nodded towards Logan, who looked about ready to kick Martin in his uptight balls. "Kids kinda get into fights sometimes. It happens. No one was seriously hurt, besides their pride maybe. "

"If I were you, Simon," Martin snarled, his sights settling on to the other man next. "I'd remember my place in things around here." Simon immediately closed his mouth, resentment burning in his dark eyes as he took a few steps back. "When I found you, Si, you were almost starving to death. If you speak out of place again, you can join them." He whipped back around to Negan, jabbing him sharply in the chest with one finger. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't toss the two of you out on your asses."

Negan didn't move, didn't blink, his gaze focused on the dumbass bastard in front of him and his hands clenched. Suprisingly, Logan didn't go off on Martin. The brat looked like he didn't mind leaving, actually. Instead, the kid grabbed his pack and started shoving some shit into the bag. Negan reached out and gently stopped him, making the kid look up at him questioningly.

Negan gave a small, reassuring smile, before he resumed his glaring match with Martin. Nearby, his bat was laying on the top of a battered dresser and he reached over for it, slowly wrapping his fingers around the handle and picking it up before swinging it up onto his shoulder. It felt reassuring to be armed in this situation and somehow the bat made him feel strong, almost in-fucking-vincable.

"We're not going any-fucking-where." He rumbled. "You fucking gave me your goddamn word that Lo would be safe behind the fences. From what I can fucking guess, some little asswipe stole his shit and Lo was com-fucking-pletely within his rights to get it back." He leered down at Martin, allowing his lips to curl back in to show his gleaming teeth in a large, wolfish grin. "I'm not seeing a reason to have us kicked out besides you having a goddamn drama queen shitfit."

Martin's expression turned from rage to something akin to nearly a full-blown fucking conniption. A vein in his forehead was ticking and his upper lip twitched. Fucker was about to go nuclear, and Negan was enjoying every second of pushing his goddamned buttons. Martin was scared and threatened by him and that fear and apprehension could be used against him if he pushed him in the right fucking direction.

"Clearly you have an overexaggerated sense of self-importance." Railyard's leader growled, stepping into Negan's personal space. However, Martin was shorter then Negan and certain-fucking-ly not quite as broad, so the effect was not as noticeable as when Negan did it. "Let me make one thing clear to you. I'm the boss here. And as the boss, I'm saying you and that degenerate little bastard of yours are out if you don't shape the fuck up."

The hot anger smoldering in Negan's stomach ignited into a fiery rage and the hand holding his baseball bat clenched tightly around the handle. His vision was going red as fury raced through him, burning away all his pain and exhaustion and leaving only a thirst for vengeance in its wake. The thought of introducing Martin to the bat flickered across his mind, and he consideed it, imagining how wood would meet flesh with a wet crack. He had killed before to make it back to Logan, he could and would kill again to protect him and keep him here. However, the feeling of a smaller hand around the wrist of the hand at his side stopped him. Negan looked down to see Logan gazing up at him, looking a helluva a lot calmer then he was.

"Dad. Let's just go." The kid said, giving Negan's arm a gentle tug. "This asshole isn't worth it." He continued, not looking at Martin. "He's just a giant bag of dicks. We can go and find another community or something..." The kid muttered, still avoiding Martin's searing gaze. Negan grit his jaw, feeling rage still bubbling under his skin like a molten inferno.

"Did he give you that shiner, kiddo?" He asked, his eyes never once leaving Martin. If he did, he was gonna fucking kill the fucker. No one, no fucking one, was going to lay a goddamned finger on his son. He had sworn to Lucille he would protect Logan with his dying breath from anything and every-fucking-thing.

"No. That was Dustin. Martin just slapped me." The kid glanced over at Martin, his tone level and his face calm. Much calmer then Negan felt at any fucking rate and he could feel his ire rise even further at Logan's revelation.

There was a steely look in the kid's eyes, a maturity that made him look more adult then he should be at age eight. And it was because this son of a bitch had hit his kid. If Negan's vision was red before, it had fucking nothing on how it looked now. All he needed was a motherfucking HUD with a 'target acquired' in blinking yellow font in front of him.

"You.. fucking hit my kid." It only took a couple of seconds for Martin to apparently realize the shit he just found himself in. Negan's voice was deadly dark, cold and sharp as obsidian. The man opened his mouth - most likely to spout off some asshole response - but Negan stopped him in his tracks by thumping the business end of the bat hard into the man's chest.

"You're not the only fucker here who doesn't tolerate goddamn excuses." Negan continued on, staring the shitstain in front of him with furious calm. "You promised me to keep my son safe and while I was out risking my life for shit you wanted, you hit him." Another thump of the baseball bat and Martin took a step back. "Call me a literal fucker, but that isn't the goddamn defination of 'safe', last time I fucking checked." He leaned close, almost nose to fucking nose with Martin. "So give me one fucking reason I shouldn't. Kick. Your. Ass." He punctuated each of the last three words with a thump against Martin's chest with the bat, not blinking or looking away.

"I'm not giving the little shit an apology." Martin hissed angrily, squaring his wiry shoulders, but his gaze flickered somewhat nervously to the baseball bat in Negan's hand and he continued on. "But if you take him with you on your runs, you can stay. He needs to be on a shorter leash." The man straightened up, jutting up his chin with a curled lip; it made Negan want to punch the smug look off his fucking face. "People don't feel safe with him on his own."

"Yeah, because he's absolutely goddamned vicious." Negan muttered dryly, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at Logan, who blinked and tilted his head to one side, like a confused puppy. Simon muffled a small chuckle with clearing his throat, calling Martin's attention to himself once again.

"I can keep an eye on them." The lanky man said, voice as easy and amicable as it always fucking was. "They'll cooperate to keep a roof over their heads and clothes on their backs." He added, raising a lone eyebrow in Negan and Logan's direction. His voice was a little harder and more forceful then usual, but Negan could tell he was helping them. For the moment. The corner's of the kid's mouth were quirking ever so slightly upwards. He seemed to trust Simon more now, and Negan found that he felt the same. The Luigi looking motherfucker wasn't too bad.

Martin glowered at Simon intently, that pissy look still on his face before he turned to Negan. "You or the little bastard fuck up and it's on Simon's head along with yours." He snarled, jabbing Negan's chest again before he turned and stomped away, flinging the door open so that it banged loudly against the wall. The whole trailer shuddered as he slammed it behind him.

* * *

After Martin's sudden appearance and subsequent departure, there was no going back to sleep now. Simon scrounged up some breakfast for them all, before he left to find someone to take a look at Negan's gunshot wound. Negan had sworn and growled at him until the other man finally left him the fuck alone and let him get some sleep. Simon was only gone for about ten minutes - enough time for Negan to shrug his t-shirt off - and when he returned, a woman with curly black hair and tanned skin was following him.

"This is Arat." Simon said, gesturing to middle-eastern woman. "She knows some basics about this sorta thing, more then I do, at any rate." He added, moving to grab some medical supplies from under the counters. "Arat, this is Negan and his son, Logan." He slapped a first aid kit on the countertop, waving a hand to father and son. "Dumb bastard got himself shot while we were scavenging in town."

"Fuck off, you wanted to hit the sports store in the first fucking place." Negan grumbled. Arat was watching them intently, her expression neutral. "C'mere, darlin'. I don't bite, unless you're into that kinda shit. It's nice to fucking meet you." He said, offering his hand to shake. He had to admit, she was pretty, in a kick him in the balls sort of way. He glanced at Simon, who gave a small smile before turning away, busying himself with cleaning one of his guns.

Logan eyed the woman with an odd expression on his face before he dragged one of the spare chairs over to Negan's side and plopped himself in it. As though he wanted to be by Negan's side just in case some shit went down.

"Nice to meet you." Arat replied, watching him somewhat cautiously. She raised her brows at Logan's actions, but didn't really say anything. "I was in the the Army back home for some time, so I know most of the basics. Considering your internal organs are still internal, we can rule out advanced triage. Unless you keep flirting."

"Then you know more then I fucking do, sweetheart." Negan admitted with a shrug, before wincing. Fucking dumbass idea, considering the circumstances he found himself in. "I did what I fucking could, but it's probably not the best."

Arat set her bag of medical shit down beside her as she kneeled in front of Negan, looking at his injuries. Negan decided then and there it was probably for the best to keep his smartass comments to himself and not think about how this was the first time in almost nine months that a gorgeous woman was between his legs. Not that he was going to do shit about it; crude comments, hell yeah, but he knew if he tried any other shit, Arat would strangle him with his balls. She jut had that stone cold look.

It seemed the woman found the stitches he had given himself good enough to leave in and instead reached for a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. All the while, Logan watched her every movement intently, brows furrowed as he frowned.

"What's that?" The brat demanded, breaking the silence and pointing at the recognizable brown bottle. His brows were furrowed and his tone was just bordering on the edge of confrontational.

"Easy, kiddo." Negan soothed, letting out a chuckle at the kid's protectiveness. "Let the lady work. She ain't gonna do any-fucking-thing." Arat was looking at the pair of them like she wasn't sure if she should respond or not. She wasn't scared of the little spitfuck, but she didn't seem to know what to make of him either. Logan sat back in his chair, still frowning worriedly, not taking his eyes off either his father or Arat.

Arat didn't speak as she did her fucking thing, and Negan didn't really want to fuck up her concentration. He resigned himself to sitting in silence while she poked and prodded him like a slab of fucking meat, occasionally wincing, hissing, or cursing when a particularly tender spot was hit. Logan would actually fucking growl at her when he did, but Negan made sure to wave him down, finding the whole thing more amusing then any-fucking-thing.

"Are you planning on staying?" Arat asked, glancing at Logan with a glimmer of amusement in her dark eyes. Her lips quirked upwards slightly and Negan found himself shrugging again with a wry chuckle.

"We're fucking thinking about it. If Lord Commander Douchebag doesn't throw us out on our asses."

"Do you always swear this much in front of your kid?" Arat asked after a long moment of looking at him like he had lost his goddamn mind and she found it more amusing then worrisome. Normally Negan would tell someone to fuck off if they questioned his parenting methods, but Arat didn't seem disapproving, merely curious.

"Fuck yes."

Negan laughed at the fucking realization that he and Logan had said that shit in unison. From the corner on the couch, even Simon gave a chuckle. Arat raised a brow, but she gave a small, but still sincere smile. She finished doctoring him up to the best of her ability while Logan bombarded her with questions every time she did something and asked for explanations on why she was doing what she was. Negan was almost flattered by how fucking protective the brat was being over him and he'd give the kid reassuring looks when the boy's anxiety tipped more towards anger.

Once completed with her task, Arat gathered her materials and stood up, adjusting her grip on the bag of medical supplies she had brought with her as she slung it up onto her shoulder.

"Thanks for patching me up." Negan said, standing as well. He noticed that he towered over her. "Sorry for the interrogation." He added, jerking a thumb at Logan, who he could just tell was flipping him off behind his back.

"You're all he has left." Arat said, her voice surprisingly soft and fucking sympathetic; more than what he goddamned deserved, especially from a stranger and especially from someone who kept their cards as close to their chest as she did. "Makes sense to me he doesn't want to lose you."

Negan glanced back to Logan, who folded his arms and looked away, a vulnerable look coming to his eyes even as the kid tried to keep a tough faced exterior. Logan absolutely fucking hated to be treated like a little kid or a baby, especially in front of other people. Even before the Fall, he always got very frustrated when he got emotional around others.

"Yeah. I guess I kinda fucking like him too." Negan reached over and ruffled the kid's hair, earning a tirade of curses and complaints and his arm shoved away with smaller hands. "Thanks for everything. I'll try not to get fucking shot next time. I hear it's bad for your goddamn health."

* * *

Over the next three days, Negan found himself lazing around while his wounds healed. He spent much of that time sleeping, knowing his body needed it in order to fucking heal itself. Logan remained steadfastly by his side, still protective and pissy at anyone he deemed a threat. Simon was, fortunately, in the clear. Logan had told him that he saw the man as a friend and seemed more willing to tolerate Simon's presence then he used to when the two first met. Arat was another person who the kid had a grudging acceptance for, but she was still relatively new and still in her 'trial run' as the boy put it.

And speaking of the brat. The kid was laying on his stomach on the floor, filling in his coloring book and listening to his walkman. A soft knock made Negan look up from his book and he frowned, tilting his head when silence followed. Simon would just walk right in and Martin would almost kick the door down. Just to be a fucking pain in the ass. Negan picked up a pillow and hit Logan's back with it, jerking the kid out of his zoned in state and earning a glare.

"Get the door, kiddo?" He asked, trying and failing to look innoccent as the brat gave him a scathing glare before he hauled himself to his feet and shuffled to the door. It swung open to reveal a dweeby looking kid with shaggy hair, glasses, and buck teeth.

"Hey, Barf!" Negan watched in complete confusion as Logan's face lit up and he stepped aside to let the other kid enter. "C'mere and meet my Dad!" The brat said as the other boy shuffled inside, fretting with his shirt nervously. Logan closed the door and moved to stand next to the other kid. "Dad, this is Barf. Barf, this is Dad."

"Why the ever-loving fuckity fuck is he called Barf?" Negan asked. Logan promptly facepalmed while 'Barf' looked torn between pants-pissing terror and regretting every fucking life decision he had ever made that led up to this point and being insulted by Negan's reaction to his name.

"You shouldn't talk, Dad. You have a weird ass name too." Logan snapped, before shooing Barf towards the folding table pushed against one wall, pinning Negan with a pissy little glower that was about as intimidating as a wet kitten. "He's my friend and we're gonna go draw and shit."

"Ni-nice to m-meet you, si-sir." Barf muttered shylyl before plopping into a chair. Negan snorted a wry chuckle and shifted his attention back to his book. He didn't focus on it, just staring down at the words on the page and listening out of sheer goddamned curiosity. "H-hey, Lo. I fo-found something f-for you." The other boy said, shrugging a backpack made more out of duct-tape then backpack. He pulled out a cassette and held it out for Logan to take. "I kn-know you li-like L-led Z-zep, but I th-think you'd like Bl-Black Sab-Sabbath too."

"Thanks, Barf... This means a lot to me... Shit..." Logan's face was one of shock and awe as he took the cassette from Barf carefully, holding it in his hands before he beamed at the other boy.

Negan wasn't even fucking pretending to read his boring ass book any longer, watching the two kids with a small smile. Fucking hell... It had been months since he had seen Logan had smiled that much.

"No-no problem." Barf said with a shrug and a bashful smile, holding his bag in his lap. "M-my Dad fou-found it in one of th-the cars."

"What the fuck does your Dad do around here, kid?" Negan asked, causing both of the boys to look at him. Barf seemed to be slowly getting used to him, but the kid still appeared nervous and flighty as all hell. At least the goofy looking little hobbit motherfucker wasn't so scared of him anymore.

"He's a me-mechanic." The boy muttered while Logan folded his arms and gave his father a warning look. "Works on c-cars and stuff."

"Sounds like a useful motherfucker to have around." Negan said, with as charming a grin as he could muster, trying to reassure the boy he wasn't going to hurt him or some shit. He may act like a tough as shit hardass, but he was used to working with children.

"W-well, I suppose he d-did... uh... do my mo-mom. So yeah.." Barf trailed off while Negan laughed his ass off, definitely not expecting that from the little weirdo. "I gu-guess you're ri-right."

"Goddammit, Dad." Logan sighed, apparently fed up with Negan's bullshit for today. Negan just laughed fucking harder.

* * *

The next day found Negan perusing the stocks of supplies Railyards kept in one of the smaller warehouses. He walked between shelves loaded with boxes and cans of food. While Martin still seemed to hate Negan's fucking guts, Simon had told him as a scavenger that went beyond the gates, he had the right to take his due.

And that's what brought him to the storage warehouse to grab some dinner for him, Logan, and Simon. The mustachioed motherfucker was out on a run with Lord Commander Douchbag, and since Negan still had a hole in his shoulder for all fucking intents and purposes, he was allowed to take it easy. However, he was getting goddamned stir crazy just sitting on his ass in the trailer, so he left Logan and Barf to hang out and braid each other's hair or some shit while he brought home the bacon.

Now, if only bacon came in cans, he thought wistfully, picking up a can of soup and inspecting the can for dents and swells. Seeing nothing, he tucked it into his bag and was about to turn when a voice behind him spoke up.

"Excuse me?"

Negan turned to see a wiry man with glasses and oil and grease all over the front of his shirt and pants standing behind him.

"Jesus fuck, you need to wear a bell or some shit." Negan growled, looking the fucker up and down. He wasn't in the habit of judging books by their covers, especially now at the end of the fucking world, but this man looked like the goddamn human personification of a pencil.

"Sorry..." The man said, reaching up with a grimy hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "Are you Logan's father?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Negan immediately scowled, drawing himself up to his full and height and preparing himself to ball this bastard out.

"And if I fucking am?" He challenged.

"Uhh... Nice to meet you. I'm Bartholomew's Dad. Balthazar, but most people just call me Balin, like Lord of the Rings." A pause and the man just fucking kept going. "Well, more of the Hobbit, really. Balin was only mentioned in the trilogy as Lord of Moria." He babbled on, not meeting Negan's now half-pissed, half-bewildered gaze.

"Bartholomew?" Negan asked, because apparently that was the fucking part his goddamn brain chose to focus on. It took a few seconds for the pieces to finally get their asses in place and he could almost feel the fucking lightbulb flicking on. "Wait, Barf?"

"Well, that is his nickname, as unfortunate as that is, but I suppose I was just asking for it naming him that." Balthazar sighed, shrugging his narrow shoulders and smiling in a helpless way.

"The little shit that hangs out with my boy?" Negan interupted, not wanting another fucking history lesson from this fucker. He seemed nice enough, but Negan didn't have all godamn day to listen to someone's life story. Balthazar blinked behind his glasses, opened his mouth before shutting it, and nodded, watching Negan's reaction carefully. "Holy shit, our kiddos are pretty much best friends." He guessed. Logan barely did friends, so maybe best was pushing it, but Negan had seen the boy talk with Barf and there seemed to be a genuine friendship there.

"Yes. Barf told me about the both of you, so I thought it would be a good idea to talk with you and see what sort of man you are." Balthazar replied, a small smile crossing his lips. Negan was seeing quite a bit of the family resemblence between the rid-goddamn-diculously named man and his rid-goddamn-diculously named kid. What sort of parent abused their child that way, giving them a fucking name like that?

Shaking himself off, Negan offered a hand and gave a grin. "Nice to fucking meet you. I'm Negan." Balthazar shook his hand, with a surprisingly firm grip and the atmosphere seemed to lighten the fuck up a bit. "So, just dropping in for a friendly fucking chat, or is there something I can fucking do for you?" Negan asked, arching his spine and leaning back and tilting his head to look down at the other man.

"I just wanted to meet you, to be honest." Balthazar admitted with another shrug, gazing at Negan over the tops of his circular glasses with a thoughtful expression on his thin face. "Bartholomew mentioned that you 'had a way with words', but I'm beginning to see now what he meant by that." Negan gave a cheeky grin and bounced his eyebrows, sliding his tongue over his teeth. He wouldn't fucking deny he was a foul-mouthed lech. Negan was many fucking things, but he was pleased as fucking punch to say that a liar was not one of them. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?"

"I have nothing better to fucking do." Negan said, shrugging before rocking back on his heels and digging his tongue into the side of his cheek. "How can yours fucking truly be of service this fine as fuck day?"

"I'd like some help moving some autoparts from here to the garage." Balthazar said mildly, scratching at his jaw with one hand and leaving a streak of blackish grit and oil behind, but he didn't seem to mind. "Perhaps you could help me? The pieces aren't extraordinarily heavy, but they can be rather awkward to carry."

"Sure thing."

* * *

Negan spent the next hour and a half helping Balthazar move car parts to Balthazar's work space in one of the larger warehouses that acted like a garage now. There were several trucks, vans, and cars parked inside, in various stages of disrepair. Negan even recognized the black truck that he and Simon had taken out on their run and the green SUV Negan had stolen from the other group to get back sitting next to it. Most of the walls were covered in tools with counters, metal shelves, and plastic storage bins of tools and equipment with one or two workbench areas interspersed between.

Negan set down the plastic crate of car shit next to Balthazar's workbench, wincing as his injured shoulder protested. He didn't think he popped the stitches, but he'd have to check when he got back.

"Thank you." Balthazar set his case of tools down on top of the workbench counter, giving Negan a small, grateful smile. "I really appreciate it. Would've taken quite some time to do that all by myself."

"No fucking problem." Negan replied, looking around the 'garage' at all the car shit. It brought back hazy, half-forgotten memories of working on the mustang belonging to his grandfather. He shook the thought off as quickly as it came. Whenever he thought about the past, it always just kicked him in the balls.

"Let me give you something as a sign of thanks." Negan turned and blinked at the bottle of whiskey Balthazar held out to him, his gaze moving between the glass bottle and the smaller man who held it.

"You don't have to fucking thank me." He said gruffly, shaking his head, but Balthazar didn't let up. "Just helped you move some heavy ass boxes. I was getting fucking flabby anyways. Chicks don't dig fat fucks."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Balthazar replied dryly, but there was something pained about his expression that Negan found he could relate to all too fucking well. "I don't want to be pushy, but maybe we can just talk? It's not often I meet people that're genuinely helpful.

"Shoot the shit?" Negan asked skeptically, raising a brow and wondering what the bastard's MO was. He remembered that this guy was the father of his son's best friend, but it was almost instinctual to consider someone else's motives, especially with how shit was now. Balthazar's demeanor was rather easy to read; he was a no nonsense, cynical motherfucker, much like Simon but not quite as much as a character. "Sure. Got some glasses for that shit? I'm not fucking swapping spit with you."

"Of course. I have no clue where you've been and as to your dental hygeine." Balthazar said, his tone extremely dry, setting down a pair of glass tumblers on the workbench surface.

"Go fuck yourself, fucker." Negan sat himself on the edge of the nearby counter, setting his baseball bat down beside him; he didn't want to leave it on the floor where it would get fucked up and messy. "Only place I've been in is bored out of my goddamn mind." He grumbled, watching with no little interest as the other man poured a few splashes of whiskey in each glass and offered Negan his.

"Why?" Balthazar asked mildly, sipping at his booze. Negan tipped a swallow back as well, relishing in the old familiar burn, but he knew better then to guzzle that shit like apple juice. He remembered stealing some of this shit from one of his buddy's grandfather (who brewed his own) and not knowing any fucking better. Suffice to fucking say, he learned some shit that day and had the worst hangover the next. It was fucking awesome.

"I got shot on a goddamn run." Negan complained into his whiskey, rubbing gingerly at his still-tender shoulder. Bastard still hurt like a motherfucker.

"Now why would you go and do a dumb thing like that?" Balthazar asked sarcastically, his mouth curved in amusement.

"Didn't goddamn do that shit on purpose." Negan chuckled and shook his head. As far as conversations with relative strangers went, this one was pretty decent; it even felt almost fucking normal. "Ran into some dickless motherfuckers."

"I imagine calling them that only helped matters." Balthazar smirked into his whiskey and Negan flipped him off with a smug simper of his own.

"I didn't exact-fucking-ly say it to their goddamn dumbass faces." Negan's smile faded somewhat and he took another fortifying sip of alcohol. "Simon and I tried to keep things peaceful, but the bastards were cruising for a fucking bruising."

Balthazar opened his mouth to reply, but was interupted by the sound of the warehouse door opening. Both men looked over to see Simon, Logan, and Bartholomew standing in the doorway.

"There the fuck you are." Logan grinned, looking a bit relieved. "I was worried you'd done something stupid again." He gave his father a withering look, like he was tired of his goddamn bullshit or something and Negan barked a laugh in response.

"Sorry, kiddo." He chuckled, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he simpered at the brat. "Promise I've been fucking behaving myself. Playing nice and making friends and all that wholesome bullshit." Logan raised a skeptical eyebrow, not looking convinced and Negan ruffled his hair affectionately. "So what're you fuckers doing here?"

"Our great and powerful leader has called a meeting." Simon said, without preamble while Logan kicked an innocent fucking lug nut out of the way, looking pissed as all hell and grumbling ridiculous swears to himself as usual when he was fucking mad and needed to goddamn vent his anger.

"Ye-yeah." Barf said in agreement, holding a very grungy looking soccer ball that was going flat. "I wa-was teaching Lo-Logan how to pl-play soccer. He sa-said he never pl-played, but Ma-Martin sa-said..."

"To hurry the fuck up, basically." Simon sighed, obviously resisting the urge to rub at his temples.

"About what?" Negan heaved a laden sigh and tugged the kid closer and Logan allowed it, letting his head thump against Negan's stomach and letting out a heavy sigh of his own. He was hoping to distract Logan from his thoughts. He knew when the kid got 'clingy' he was not thinking happy things.

"Probably some shit or something." Logan grumbled, rolling his eyes, but looking less sad. How fucking bad was shit that Negan could consider the kid being pissed better then the kid being upset?

"Wouldn't say." Simon shrugged, reaching up with one hand to scratch at his jaw. He didn't look excited at the prospect of the meeting either."

"Why not?" Balthazar asked, leaning back a little on his stool and looking a little annoyed, judging by the deadpan expression on his face. "I wonder if that man realizes fixing cars actually takes time and effort. I can't waste my time sitting around listening to him prattle about nothing."

"Most people call that bitching and moaning." Negan mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, pretty goddamned amused by the other man's lackluster reaction. "But I suppose we better fucking go see if he'll kick Lo and I off the island."

"Dickhead." Logan mumbled, shifting his pack. Ever since Dustin had stolen it while Negan was away, the kid had taken to carrying it around with him to prevent another theft.

"Well, we don't have coconuts here, so I doubt it will be official." Simon offered, giving a small smile as they left the warehouse with Balthazar and Bartholomew in tow. Negan rolled his eyes as they walked, glancing down at Logan, who was pretty much fucking sulking and dragging his feet. "Nah. Far as I've heard, there's a new group that's wiping out our scavenging teams. Probably friends of the fuckers we got in that little disagreement with."

"Is it really a disagreement when firearms are involved?" Balthazar asked blandly from the very back of their little group, looking at Negan with a semi-amused expression.

"I don't think so, but it still makes him a dickhead." Logan grumbled, staring straight ahead, his little shoulders tense and an angry scowl on his face as he folded his arms over his chest. Little fucker was practically stomping as they got closer to the main warehosue.

"One fucking way to put it." Negan said, noticing other people were arriving as well. He paused, coming to a stop about ten feet in front of the large warehouse and squared his shoulders, bracing himself for the inevitable bullshit. "Well, let's get this shit over with."

They entered the communal warehouse where most of the other Railyard survivors lived and were now gathered together in a large, milling crowd. The murmur of lowly spoken conversations filled the room as Negan, Logan, and Simon entered. They stayed near the back by the door, watching and waiting for Martin to make his appearance.

Eventually the man of the hour did finally fucking show up, entering through the opposite doors, flanked by two of his higher ranked scavengers. Immediately, the room fell mostly silent, before whispers started stirring up a few seconds later.

"I've called you all to this meeting to let you know what's going on." Martin began, raising his voice loudly to be heard across the room. Negan watched the man intently as Logan folded his arms next to him, aiming death glares at the leader of Railyards; if looks could kill, Martin would be six feet under. "Our scavenging teams are continuing their work to bring in supplies and trustworthy people to our community." Martin's cold blue gaze met Negan's own tawny one and Negan couldn't help but give him a mocking, toothy smile, knowing full well how 'trustworthy' the other man found him. Martin's eyes narrowed and he looked away, lips pursed in his typical pissy-looking glower.

"Unfortunately, with how the world is now, many of our scavengers have been lost." Negan glanced over to Simon for confirmation as a dismayed murmur rippled over the crowd, filling the room. "As we continue to strive forwards towards the future, we remember what we have lost and what survival takes now." Logan was mumbling more swears under his breath as Martin talked on and on and Negan had never been more grateful for his 'I've given teenagers the sex talk with bananas and condoms' face as he listened to the kid growl that Martin was 'a twatwaffling cockburgling fucktrumpet '. Barf was shaking with stifled laughter and his father was keeping an impressively straight face. Negan made a mental note to never play poker with the bastard.

"From what I have been able to learn from reports given to me by survivors of these incidents, there is another group, Marauders, who have staked out territory in the city." There was little doubt that Martin was likely referring to the men they had fought with on their run and it just as likely that Simon had come to a similar conclusion. At least, judging from the concerned frown under his mustache. Logan was apparently passing on his knowledge of creative swears to Barf and the two boys were soon whispering insults that their fathers exchanged wry glances over. "As far as I can guess, we are now in competition with them over resources, as some of our more 'unfortunate' scavengers have discovered."

Martin's icy gaze found Negan's again and Negan could feel his blood pressure fucking rising at the arrogant douchebaggery he could almost see from across the room. He made a show of pretending to look through his jacket for something before flipping off the other man. And was pleased as fucking punch to see that Logan had down the same, although he skipped the show and gone straight for the delivery. Although, chances were, Martin probably couldn't see the kid over the other people gathered in front of them.

Martin's glower intensified as he talked. "I understand your concern, but efforts are being made to increase our defenses and the situation with the Marauders is being handled." The leader of Railyards gave a dismissive wave with one hand. "If I get more information, you'll be told in our next community meeting. That is all."

Almost immediately, people began to disperse. Negan, Simon, and Logan remained where they stood near the back wall, watching as other community members went back to work or their homes in the ward-like sections of the communal warehouse.

"That was..." Simon murmured, struggling to find the right words. Negan raised a brow at him, wondering what the man really thought about his illustrious leader's propaganda.

"Interesting.." Balthazar tried, unsuccessfully to hide his obvious irritation at being dragged over to listen to shit he most likely already knew. "I fail to see how that concerned me."

"It was shit." Logan said, looking up at Simon with an annoyed expression, his expression an oddly mature glower he was starting to wear more and more before mellowed out to a more age appropriate pout. "We could've been coloring or something." He sulked, folding his arms and look at Barf, who shrugged helplessly before nodding in agreement. "I'm glad we don't have coconuts. I would've thrown one at Martin's big stupid dumbass head." Simon chuckled and shook his head, aiming an amused look at Negan with an eyebrow raised.

"Y-you can bo-borrow my soc-soccer b-ball?" Barf offered with a sheepish grin, earning a grudging smile from Logan.

"Sorry, kiddo, maybe next time." Negan chuckled, reaching over to ruffle the brat's hair he bounced his eyebrows up at Simon, as if to say, 'questioning my badass parenting methods?'. However, as quickly as his good mood came, it disappeared. "How many people have gone fucking missing or been hurt by those dickbags, Si?"

"At least ten dead and seven wounded, last I heard, boss." Simon said, becoming serious as well. "I don't think we made matters any worse, though." He said, reaching up to rub at his chin thoughtfully. "Makes sense that it would basically be a free for all over resources now. Can't exactly run to Wal-Mart and grab a six-pack right now." Negan grunted in agreement, mulling over Simon's words and Martin's earlier statements. "Martin is good at keeping relatively calm, but he kinda forgets that other communities are definitely a possibility, especially since people are basically on their own. People are gonna band together, good or bad, eventually we're gonna meet another group and either work together or fight over supplies and territory."

"That makes the most sense." Batlhazar offered, tipping his head to one side thoughtfully. "There may be more walkers in the city, but they can be rather easy to herd and the resources still in town would be worth the risk for many."

"Nothing more then fucking animals fighting over scraps." Negan growled, shaking his head. "What kind of fucking life is that?" He wondered aloud, looking around him at the people who had survived the Fall of the old world to find themselves in a new world of cannibalistic undead and groups of people where only the strongest survived. You could look after those weaker then yourself, but you could only truly fucking help them from a position of strength. "Fucking hell." He sighed, reaching up to rub a hand over his tired face. "So there's a chance that we're gonna actually have a drawn out fight with these fuckers."

"More then likely." Simon agreed with a helpless sort of shrug before tilting his head questioningly at Negan. "What're ya thinking, boss?"

"I'm fucking thinking I'm not sure I wanna be around when the other goddamn shoe drops."

* * *

"Kiddo, where are my goddamn boots?" Negan tossed some discarded clothes onto the cot, kneeling on the floor and searching for the fuckers in question.

"How the fuck should I know?" Logan asked, sliding his headphones down around his neck and looking up at his father from where he sat at the table, drawing in his sketchbook. "Where did you have them last?"

"If I fucking knew that shit, I wouldn't be looking for 'em." Negan growled, leaning on his knees to peer under the cot. He saw the boots shoved all the way under the cot and reached for them, finally pulling them out. "Goddamn." He grumbled, pulling them on and lacing them up before standing up, growling curses as his knees protested and his back clicked. "Come the fuck on, kiddo. You wanted to come with me."

"I'm more ready then you are ." Logan said sassily, sliding off the chair and grabbing his pack, before double checking that he had his knife and gun. Negan snorted and grabbed his gear and headed out the door, baseball bat in one hand and Logan at his heels.

They headed out along the chainlink fences topped with razor wire that surrounded Railyard's cluster of warehouses and train tracks. They would circle around the entire complex, looking for walkers and putting them down. It was easy work, to keep Negan's injuries from reopening and spewing blood every-fucking-where, and it was good practice for Logan to hone his skills.

Most people at Railyards scoffed at Negan for teaching his son how to defend himself, but neither he or Logan cared about their shitastic opinions. In Negan's mind, it was naive to think that you could completely shield your child from the kind of shit the world had devolved to. He knew he could never keep Logan safe one-fucking-hundred percent of the time, so the next best thing was to teach the kid to fend for himself.

"Dad...?" Negan looked down at Logan's voice, raising a brow as they walked slowly along. "Do you ever think that maybe the walkers are still... alive?"

"No, kiddo." Negan ran a hand over his face, feeling his beard prickle at his palm. "People become biters after they die. I'm no fucking expert, but I think they don't fucking stick around. My guess is they move on and it's just the virus or whatever the fuck it is making their body still move." He watched Logan's reaction carefully, seeing the kid bite his lower lip as he thought this shit over.

"Do you think that happened with Momma..? That she didn't... try to hurt us.." Negan's heart clenched at the idea of Lucille and he didn't even need a second to consider this.

"No. Your Momma..." His throat tried to close around the words, but he forced them out, knowing he and the kid needed to talk this shit out. "She would've never fucking hurt you, hurt us, Lo." They came to a stop near the fence, facing each other, and watching for each other's reactions. Logan's eyes were brighter then usual, but he didn't cry. "She loved ya. I know she's proud of ya. That... thing back there may have fucking looked like her, but it wasn't her. Ya get me, Lo?"

"Yeah... I think I understand..." Logan's forehead thumped against Negan's stomach again and he chuckled softly, resting a hand on top of the kid's shaggy head. "Thanks... Dad."

"You're fucking welcome, Lo." Negan said softly, stroking Logan's dark hair, even though it would remain as messy and untamed as always.

"I love you, Dad." Logan's little arms wrapped around him and squeezed and Negan returned the gesture, feeling his chest ache with pain, but he felt goddamned happy too. As odd as that sounded.

"I love you too, Logan."


	9. Chapter IX: The Man Comes Around

A/N: Sooooo. Heyyy guys. *Sheepish wave.* It's me. How're you? I'm really, really, really sorry about the wait on this. To be honest, I re-wrote this chapter about five or six times before I came to a point where I was pleased with what I had. I wasn't gonna just post whatever crap came to me, because you guys deserve better.

I hope you can forgive me for taking so long. It really wasn't my intent to do so. I was just lacking a lot of motivation and wasn't happy with some other ways this played out. If you guys could please, please, please let me know what ya'll think, I'd really appreciate it. I do have part of chapter ten already written out, and I have some time to work on it. I am still looking for a Beta-reader if anyone is interested. I just feel I need to discuss some things and maybe get a second opinion sometimes? I don't know.

Anywho. Chapter title and soundtrack is Johnny Cash's The Man Comes Around. Thanks a bunch and I really hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Lo, c'mere for a fucking second, would ya?" Negan looked up from the gun parts he had assembled on the table, eyes falling on where Logan sat on the cot fiddling with his walkman. He could faintly hear the familiar tones of Black Sabbath and guessed that Logan was taking a crack at the cassette Barf had given him yesterday.

The boy hit the pause and looked up, blinking curiously at his father. Negan waved him over with one hand and the kid plopped himself into the seat next to his Dad, obviously curious. "We re gonna teach you how to take care of this fucking thing properly." Negan explained, gesturing to the pieces of Logan's Beretta he had taken apart, laying on the table and gleaming coldly in the light overhead.

"Okay." The boy nodded, his brows furrowing a bit as he realized this would be a more serious conversation then the fucking snark fest they usually fucking found themselves in. "Thanks for showing me, Dad."

Negan allowed a faint smile to show, his heart warming at those words. He and Logan were closer then ever before, but he knew they probably would not have had this relationship without the goddamned apocalypse happening. More then fucking likely, they would have been loving but a bit distant, like before Lucille had died. Negan's own relationship with his father was tumultuous at its best and nonexistent at its worst; the drunk old fucker was just a sperm donor and Negan spent most of his time as Logan's father doing the opposite of what his old man would have done. As macabre as it was, he was happy to finally have that deeper relationship with his son.

Talk about fucking silver linings.

"Remember what I said when you first got this thing?" Negan asked, raising a brow and studying the kid's expression. The boy dutifully replied with _'it's a tool, not a toy_ ' and Negan beamed with pride, pleased he had remembered. "That's my fucking boy." He rumbled with gruff affection. Step by step, he showed Logan how to clean the parts of the gun and reassemble it. The brat watched intently, soaking the information in like a gangly little sponge and once Negan was done with his walk-through, he handed the Beretta back. "Now show me what I showed you."

Logan bit his lip and nodded, taking the gun from his father in his smaller hands and taking it apart carefully piece by piece, laying them out on the table neatly. When he hesitated, Negan remained quiet, watching as the boy thought it through before continuing. When Logan got stuck on certain parts, Negan gently talked him through it until the gun was finally cleaned and reassembled, gleaming coldly in the light.

"Good job, kiddo." Negan rumbled with pride as Logan beamed up at him. "We'll keep working on it until you can do it by yourself." He said, taking the gun from the brat to look it over, just in case. "I do want you to be careful. Like I said, it's a tool, not a toy. You'll fucking respect it as such."

"Yes, sir." Logan said, nodding. Negan smiled before reaching over and ruffling the brat s messy hair. He grabbed a box of ammo he had found for the Beretta and shoved it in his pack, nodding to the kid.

"We're gonna go out and practice shooting this fucker but then I have to help Simon with something for a fucking bit." He said, standing and grabbing his pack. Logan did the same, making sure he had his knife as well, before following his father out the door. On the way out, Negan grabbed a walkie he had signed out of the supply cache, so he could be reached. They walked to the front gates, where a couple of men stood on guard on makeshift watchtowers that looked like they had been hunting stands at one point.

Once the gates were rolled back, father and son set off, heading a bit deeper into the woods. Negan didn't want to go too far, just in case, but he didn't want to draw a herd of walkers to their position (or Railyard's) so it was a little bit of a hike to find a suitable place that Negan was fucking happy with.

They had managed to find a small clearing filled with overgrown grass and the low-hanging branches of a large oak tree. Negan handed Logan his bat to hold on to and shrugged his pack off, kneeling down next to it and removing some cans from last night s dinner. He lined them up on and near the branch and tree, before returning to Logan's side.

"Same shit, different day, kiddo." He said with a smirk, nodding his head back towards the cans he d set up. "Let's see how you do."

Logan nodded and handed the bat back, before he unholstered the Beretta and took aim, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart. Negan watched as the boy took shot after shot, slowly reaccostuming himself to firing a gun again. The sound of the shots seemed to echo through the woods, making it hard to pinpoint - just like Negan planned. He wasn't fucking interested in getting his ass chewed on by an undead prick.

"Good job. He said, pleased, before stepping forwards and guiding the kid s hands through the reloading process, the bat leaning against his pack nearby. "You're a goddamned natural."

"I think as long as you don t talk about dicks, I do okay." Logan snipped back with a little shit-eating grin, making Negan let out a bark of laughter.

"Al-fucking-right then. I'll keep the goddamned dick chat to a minimum, capiche?"He chuckled before gesturing for the brat to watch him how to put more bullets in a clip. Logan observed with rapt attention, his head tilted slightly.

"Capeach." Logan said, frowning around the word he spoke, brows furrowed in confusion. Negan grinned and ruffled his hair, before picking up his bat.

"C'mon, let's head back before some undead pricks decide to stop by for lunch."

"Sure thing, Dad." The crackle of the radio interrupted Negan before he could reply and he unclipped it from his belt and held it to his ear. The tinny voice of Simon came through, garbled with static.

"Hey, Negan, you there? Martin is rallying the troops in for the meeting." Simon s somewhat bored voice drawled over the radio. Negan pressed the push-to-talk button and brought it to his mouth.

"I'll be right fucking there. Lemme drop the kiddo off." He jerked his head and Logan nodded, double-checking the safety on his Beretta before holstering it. He then grabbed his pack and rocked on his heels, waiting and watching his father curiously.

Negan picked up his pack and slung it over his back, before resting his bat on his shoulder and walking back towards the direction of Railyards. Logan trailed behind him, alternating between walking and jogging in little spurts to keep up. He was growing goddamn quick, but his legs weren t quite long enough to catch up with his father. Negan bet by the time Logan hit his teens, he'd be as tall as he was; if lived that long.

Immediately, his stomach twisted at that thought and he shook his head with a frown. Logan would live. He'd make this new world his bitch and maybe by the time he was Negan's age, things would be stable. He wouldn't have to fear death coming at every angle. The world would never be what it was; Lucille's death and the walkers had changed it forever, but there was still a life worth fighting for here.

Negan looked up at the sky, seeing the sun stream through the clouds amidst branches of the trees, gold and bright as fucking ever and his lips twitched a little in a smile. Silver linings.

"Dad?" He looked over his shoulder at Logan, who was watching him with a curious smile. "What're you thinking about?" The kid asked, tilting his head like a pup.

"'bout the future, kiddo." He rasped back, shrugging his broad shoulders. Logan hummed and nodded, trotting alongside him as they started walking again. "I'm thinking 'bout the future I want for my boy and how we get there."

"This isn't another dick chat thing, is it?" Logan asked somewhat warily, making Negan laugh. They were reaching the edge of the woods, leaves, sticks, and dirt crunching softly under their booted feet.

"Nah, I fucking promise, Lo." Negan chuckled, before a gurgled groan made them both look to the right. A walker wearing a tattered greyish jumpsuit that must have been fucking orange or some shit at some time came shambling towards them. Its head hung on a partially eaten neck, sinew and bone clearly seen between strings of muscle. Negan twirled the bat in one hand, tucking his tongue into the side of his cheek before Logan's voice came from his left.

"Dad? Let me take it?" The kid asked. Negan glanced between the two swiftly, contemplating the request before he nodded and swept his other hand out in invitation.

"Be my fucking guest, kiddo."

"Thanks." Logan unholstered his knife, stepping forwards and closer to the walker. Negan watched on as the boy waited until the walker was close enough before dodging its grasping hands and kicking its leg out from under it. It collapsed onto one knee, growling mindless fucking protests before Logan plunged the knife into its forehead.

Negan tucked the bat into the crook of his arm and applauded, smirking as Logan gave a sheepish sort of nervous smile and mock-bowed, before wiping his knife on the walker's haggard clothing.

His baby boy was growing up into a goddamn badass.

* * *

Once they made it back inside Railyard gates, he gave his Dad a quick hug, squeezing him tight. For the first time in a long time, they got along great. Dad hadn't said or done anything stupid for a while to piss Logan off. He liked it when he and Dad got along without biting each other s heads off or pissing each other off to the point of not talking. It sucked ass when things got that bad and they'd spend days sulking and glaring at each other, waiting for the other to crack and apologize. Logan always did it first; Dad was the only family he had left, he didn't want a stupid fight to be the last thing between them.

Dad waved him off with a gruff curse to go do whatever the fuck he did, but to be careful so Logan headed off towards the garage; he was a man on a mission. Well boy, but he was gonna be ten in about a year, so not a kid for much longer. He had agreed to meet Barf there the other day so they could play soccer. Barf hadn't taught him all the rules yet, and he wanted to learn.

He pushed the door to the garage warehouse open, looking around for Barf and finding him sitting on a stool next to his dad as he worked on a car.

"Hey, Barf." He said, wandering over, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Oh.. h-hey, Lo-Logan." Barf smiled, giving him a big grin and a wave. "Ho-how are y-you?"

"I'm fucking fantastic. I got a present for you." Logan shrugged his backpack off and began rummaging around in it, searching for Barf's gift. "Since you got me something, I got Simon to find something for you. Since Dad's still grounded and I'm not letting him go out until he's all better."

Barf snickered a little at the idea and Logan grinned in response, finding the present and holding it out; a case for glasses, with cool little monster guys on them.

"I'm sorry it's not as cool as Black Sabbath." He muttered, toeing at the greasy concrete floor of the warehouse. "But I thought glasses were important and it was cool."

"I l-like it!" Barf hugged him and Logan preened at the praise, feeling proud of himself. "D-Dad's sick of fi-fixing them. S-so it h-helps." The other boy backed away and looked down at the case, studying the cartoonish pictures of the monsters with nubby little arms and legs and goofy smiles full of teeth.

"Thank you, Logan." Balthazar said, wiping his hands on a oil-splattered towel. "It was very thoughtful of you." He gave a small smile, peering at the monsters that decorated the case. "They re kinda cute."

"Cool." Both boys corrected him in unison. "Monsters aren't cute. They re cool." Logan insisted, earning a chuckle and an amused shake of the head from the man.

"My apologies." He said, still looking like he found it pretty funny. "You two are welcome to stay here." Balthazar said, before cutting his eyes to Logan. "Your father asked me yesterday to at least keep an eye on you while he's helping Simon with whatever it is they're doing today."

"Yeah." Logan frowned, kicking at the ground in helpless anger. "They're at a meeting. Planning and shit. Don't know why Martin won't let me help. I could think of something." Barf just gave him a sympathetic look and Balthazar shook his head.

"Probably because you are still a child. It's not quite your fight yet." He said, giving the boy a knowing look; already he knew that Logan was as curious as he was stubborn, like his father. "You and your father would drive Martin insane, constant questions and being smartasses." He added with a wry chuckle, turning back to the car.

"Well, Martin's a dumbass, so who cares?" Logan asked, as Barf got their soccer ball from his lucky bag and kicked it over. Logan stopped it with his foot before nudging it to the other, thinking things over. Balthazar snorted with laughter again, shaking his head in amusement.

"Nothing. You children need to learn how this world works now. You can t do that being sheltered away from everything." Balthazar said as he tinkered with the guts of the car, working with a wrench as Logan and Barf kicked the ball back and forth. Logan listened carefully, often exchanging meaningful looks. "It is a parent's job to not only protect their children, but also to prepare them for life on their own without them."

Logan smiled faintly, nodding in agreement. All Dad did was protect him and he did it while not treating him like he was a baby or not able to defend himself. He loved his Dad for that. For letting him understand that he might not have ever picked this life, but this life had picked him and all he could do was roll with the fucking punches and not give up.

He kicked the ball back to Barf, who grinned and bounced it on his foot. "Shit! You gotta teach me how to do that!" Logan said, after he had picked his jaw up off the floor. "Please?" He begged, not even caring that s what he was doing.

"Su-sure. I'm n-not the b-best. But w-we can t-try." Barf said, bouncing the ball up on his heel a couple of times. Little liar, he was good at that shit. Logan grinned broadly, gaze following the ball as it bounced up in the air.

Fucking awesome.

* * *

There were a lot of things that Negan hated fucking dealing with - and that he thought that might have been wiped out in light of the goddamned apocalypse - but apparently meetings were not one of those things. He shifted in his seat next to Simon and lazed back in his chair, ignoring Martin's glower as he did so.

Fucking hell he was bored as shit. Not even listing every Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, Metallica, AC/DC, and Black Sabbath song he could think of was helping. For a second, he wished he had burrowed Logan's walkman, so he wouldn't have to pretend to listen. It'd be a more productive use of his goddamned time.

Lord Commander Douchbag had been going on and fucking on for about fifteen minutes and Negan swore he could feel his brain starting to leak out of his ear, the world was going dark, and he was headed to the goddamned light. Rosebuds and shit.

Luckily, his shoulder wasn't giving him shit for it, and he was seated next to the most tolerable person Negan fucking knew besides Logan, Simon. Speaking of the mustachioed motherfucker.

The man elbowed him and Negan grudgingly dragged himself out of a daydream of doing any-fucking-thing else to see Martin had stopped pacing and kissing his own ass to look at his followers. _Probably expected them to pick up where he fucking left off_ , Negan thought sourly, adjusting his arms across his chest and breathing slowly through his nose.

"Have we encountered any more of these groups? Or found our missing people?" He asked, looking towards Arat. The woman scowled and shook her head, rubbing at her temple with one hand.

"Not a peep, sir." She answered pragmatically, using a knife to clean beneath her fingernails. "Even some scouting parties into the city haven't run into them." She looked up at Martin, raising a brow. Either they moved on, which I doubt, or they re up to something.

"Perhaps." Martin hummed thoughtfully while Negan's stomach twisted at the idea. With so much bad blood happening between their two groups, he doubted the Marauders would just let them off without any consequences and move on. He sure as fuck wouldn't just let that sort of shit fly. "Maybe we can even meet some sort of peace agreement."

"Yeah fucking right." Negan grumbled, earning a glare from the leader of Railyards. "We killed some of their people, they've killed some of ours, some people are still goddamned MI-fucking-A. We're not gonna sit down and braid each other's fucking hair." He shrugged with a sneer, hands moving before settling back near his knees. "I think we should consider moving our goddamned territories. Find something more defensible. Either that or force them out and take theirs."

"That is not happening!" Martin snapped, slamming his hands on the table all the scavenger lieutenants sat around. The slap of skin against metal echoed around the now silent room. "We are not leaving our home because you fucked things up for all of us!" He growled, jabbing an accusa-fucking-tory finger in Negan's direction. "And attacking them is out of the question!"

"You better stop pointing that fucking thing at me before I snap it off and shove it up your fucking ass." Negan drawled, folding his arms across his chest and leaning slowly back into his seat. He didn't look away from Martin, while resting his boots on top of the table with two loud, pointed thuds. "Don't throw a dramaqueen shitfit with me because you didn't think this shit through."

Martin's lip curled as he stalked closer, skirting around the edge of the table. Negan kept himself still, not letting the other man think that he had any kind of fear of him. He merely looked up at the other man with lazy eyes, like he couldn't have cared less, but every muscle was tense and ready to kick Martin's teeth down his goddamned throat.

"Wanna run that by me again." Martin hissed, leaning close, getting almost nose to fucking nose with him.

"Did I fucking stutter?" Negan said, glaring right back and shifting slowly to sit up straighter in his seat. It took him a full fucking three seconds to realize his hand had closed around the handle of his bat. Martin's eyes narrowed as he sneered at Negan, opening his mouth.

The thunderous clang and subsequent screech of metal against metal came from outside. Gunshots and shouts followed. Everyone gathered in the room fell silent before scrambling for their shit, picking up guns and knives. Negan jumped to his feet, heading to the wall near and window for cover, cautiously peering out of it.

Negan could see an SUV with a crumpled front, smoke pouring out from under the fucked-up hood. Tiny flickers of flames were starting to crawl up from the dented metal as a horn blared across the rainy interior of Railyards. Caught along the front tires was a mangled piece of chainlink fence.

The gates were fucking down. Fucking fuck.

Negan swore, feeling his heart clench in an odd way, ice washing through his veins. He glanced at Simon, who looked pale and grave and then to Martin, who looked like he was about to shit a brick.

"Now fucking what?" Negan growled, jerking his head to indicate the chaos outside their fucking door.

Gunfire cut Martin off before he could even speak and everyone hunkered down as well as they could while glass shattered and bullets ricocheted off walls and floors.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT." Negan chanted, ducking his head down and covering it with his arm. Glass and metal shards exploded everywhere, littering the floor. He knew he couldn't just sit here with a thumb up his ass like a goddamn sitting duck. "Fucking cocksucking hell." He snarled, ears ringing so badly he couldn't even hear his own bitching and moaning. He grabbed his rifle, keeping a firm grip on the bat as he crouch-walked towards the fucking door.

He had to get to Logan. Get to Logan and get the fuckity fuck out of this shithole. He reached the door and was about to open it when it was kicked in. He had a fraction of a second to realize what was in front of him before he fired his rifle, nailing the man in front of him dead center and making him fly backwards onto his back. The recoil was absolute fucking hell on his wounded shoulder, but he grit his teeth and pushed on, stepping out to see two women and a man coming up the stairs.

He kicked the first down, and they went down like dominos, one after the other, until they fell into the mud in a tangle of limbs, guns, and curses. He hesitated, holding his rifle and looking down on the pile of people with his stomach in his throat and his blood rushing loudly through his ears, making his head throb with the beat. He licked his dry lips, swallowing painfully as he lifted the gun again.

Already the trio was scrambling to their feet, grabbing for their mud-splattered weapons. One of the women stood up first and Negan shot her when she did, sending her back into the mud with a startled scream. The second woman screeched something at him, but the blood in his ears was pumping too loudly to hear her clearly. He managed to wing her in the shoulder, making her stumble before the man tackled him and they went down into the mud, Negan on his back and the ugly bald bastard on top of him.

His gun was pinned between the two of them, across the upper portion of Negan s chest, near his goddamn collar bones. Baldy was quick to roll with the goddamn punches - literally - and nailed him in the cheek with a right hook that made his teeth creak and stars burst behind his closed eyelids. He moved his other fist back for another blow and Negan did the very first fucking thing he could think of, kneeing the cockgobbler right where it hurt.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the other woman advancing, holding a shotgun, blood smeared across her chin and a feral look in her eyes as she walked closer.

Fuck. He hissed, trying to shove the oher man off him, before managing to roll the other man off and scramble to his knees, raising his gun, just in time to bring himself almost nose to fucking nose with hers.

A thunderous boom made him blink, just as his rifle jerked in his hands, another sharp crack of gunfire echoing out, the stock slamming against his shoulder. The woman was hit once, staggering back once before she was felled by the second shot. Negan turned to see Simon standing in the doorway, holding his pistol and looking at Negan with a concerned expression.

"You okay, boss?" He asked, looking at the three dead Marauders with a sneer starting to curl under his mustache.

"Yeah." Negan panted, climbing to his feet. "Still in one fucking piece."

"I can see that." Simon said, tilting his head to peer around, in case they got more company coming. "What's the plan?"

His gut instinct was to open his mouth to tell the other man exactly what he could do with his plan when a soft step from inside the warehouse made the both of them turn.

Arat and several other of Martin s lieutenants stood near the threshold of the warehouse door, looking at Negan and Simon nervously. Only two or three remained near Martin, helping to patch up his wounds, the others were looking solely to Negan.

A glance at Simon found the man waiting patiently for something and Negan forced down a dry, painful swallow, feeling his shoulders hunch up unconsciously at the weight of so many eyes on him. This wasn't what he fucking wanted; he wasn't a leader and the only thing he wanted to do was to find his kid and get the fuck outta dodge. But now, having this shit, this responsibility, dumped in his lap made him want to goddamn throw up. But his stomach was empty.

 _'God-fucking-damnit.'_

* * *

"God-fucking-damnit!" Logan swore as the soccer ball rolled away again, frustrated and heading towards pissed. He didn't know how the hell Barf managed to do soccer tricks, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't do it. Fucking ball was a dick. He sighed as Barf scampered off to retrieve it as it came to a stop against the far wall of the garage.

"D-don't worry. Y-you'll g-get it." His friend reassured him, trotting back over with ball in hand. "It t-took me fo-forever to l-learn." He said with a grin, making Logan smile grudgingly in return. That did go a long way to making him feel a little bit better. "I w-wouldn't go in-into a career of so-soccer though."

The faint sound of gunfire cut Logan off before he could reply. Balthazar jerked his head up from his work on the car, worry creasing his oil-streaked face. Barf looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, eyes darting frantically from side to side.

"D-dad?" The other boy finally stammered, looking to his father nervously. "W-what was t-that?" More gunfire, accompanied by the faint sound of people shouting followed his words.

"I don't know." Balthazar murmured, brows furrowed, before he stood up from his stool. More shots came, coming closer and closer. "Get behind the car." The man whispered frantically, waving the two of them towards the last car near the wall; the green SUV. Logan grabbed Barf s wrist and pulled him along, pushing him into the space before him and following after. Their backs were against the wall, leaving only a few inches between their shoes and the tires of the car.

He could hear the door bang open as he and Barf huddled behind the tires. Balthazar jumped away from the car, and Logan watched with mute shock and horror as the man held his hands up. A shot rang out and the mechanic let out a wheezing gasp before he fell to the floor, blood spiling from a rapidly growing spot on his oil-splattered shirt.

Balthazar's glasses hit the ground with a light tink. The wounded man's eyes flicked to Logan and Barf's hiding place and his mouth moved, shaping the words 'Quiet , before looking away. Logan gripped Barf s arm tightly, even as the younger boy clung to him, burying his face in Logan's shoulder.

"Fuck, Paul, why'd you shoot him?" A woman's sharp voice barked as Balthazar's labored breathing filled the garage. "We coulda used a mechanic." Logan couldn't turn away, couldn't do anything but stare, feeling completely helpless and trapped. Like invisible hands were holding him there and forcing his throat closed.

"He had a fucking gun, Faye." Asshole one growled back, walking over and kicking one of Balthazar's arms. He let out a little rasp in response, a gurgle at the end of it, and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. "Stupid bastard." Paul grunted, before firing another shot, this time into Balthazar's head.

Logan's ears rung at the blast and he shook his head. Swallowing down his breakfast in his throat before shrugging off Barf's hand on his shoulder. He slid his knife out, creeping forwards, feeling rage settle hot and heavy in his stomach. Paul's back was to him as he kneeled down, looking through Balthazar's pockets. And that made Logan all the angrier. He had to do something. Anything was better then just sitting there and doing nothing.

He jumped forward with an angry yell, leaping onto Paul's back and stabbing the blade frantically into the man s head and torso. Paul shrieked with pain, before dropping, sending Logan tumbling to the floor. He scrambled to his knees to see the woman staring at him, like she'd never seen a kid before.

She fumbled for her gun and he did the only thing he could think of, dropping the knife and unholstering his own. The gun going off several times nearly sent him on his ass. He stumbled backwards, tripping over Paul's limp, outstretched arm and landing painfully on his ass as the woman dropped to her knees before falling to the floor onto her side.

Logan remained where he was on the cold floor, panting heavily and shaking like a leaf. He couldn't stop even if he wanted to; he just wanted to curl up into a ball and make all this shit go away. A faint footstep startled him and he whipped around, lifting his gun towards the sound. Only to see Barf shakily approaching the lifeless form of his father, his face red and streaked with tears as his chin wobbled.

Logan lowered his arm, but didn't move, helpless to say or do anything. What could he say? Nothing he could say would help this.

More muffled shots came from outside, making Logan look away, even as guilt gnawed at his stomach and his chest felt empty. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, swaying a bit before checking the ammo on his beretta. Four bullets left.

He must've fired more then he meant to when he shot the lady. Bile clogged his throat and he dashed a few feet away to vomit, his shaking worse. Logan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and turned slowly to see Barf still crying and trembling in a pathetic huddle near Balthazar's body. Logan knew it was wrong, but he was grateful he didn't have to put down the man before he turned into a walker. He didn't know if he could've done it.

He approached as carefully as he could, stepping over Paul's arm again. A garbled growl made his turn his head, looking at the woman as she propped herself up stiffly on her hands. She looked up at him with dull, listless eyes and Logan swallowed back another wave of nausea that burnt the back of his throat. He raised the gun again as the woman snarled, showing her teeth like an angry dog.

He only shot once.

* * *

Mud squelched underfoot as Negan led some of the people, his people, through the rain-slogged grounds of Railyards, ears straining for any sound. Shots and screams rang out in the distance as the Marauders wreaked havoc on their home; they were starting fires as well, judging by the heavy scent of fire and smoke on the muggy air.

Negan leaned against the wall beside a shot-through window, pearing through the open area with shards of glass and across the grounds of Railyards. It was risky to plant his ass so close to a window where he could get it shot, but he had to get his fucking bearings and see what was going on in order to counterplan.

Several of Martin s (former?) lieutenants and a few people they had managed to scrounge up hunkered under cover behind him, watching him intently with apprehensive expressions. They were holding their weapons as Negan peered across muddy courtyards dotted with trailers and vehicles that their enemies had driven through their fences.

"Fucking fuck." He growled, leaning back before leaning forwards, squinting into the distance. Several cars were driving slowly along the roads, honking their horns occasionally and blaring music through their speakers. Behind them trailed the biggest herd of walkers Negan had ever seen. "They got a big ass herd headed our way." He informed the grim-looking survivors clustered around him. A column of smoke starting to slowly curl up into the grey, cloudy sky made him swear again. "And they're starting fires."

"The smoke and fire is gonna attract the walkers and keep 'em here until it burns out." Simon snarled angrily, mustache bristling. "Gonna herd 'em right to us and just watch the show. They won't have to do a goddamn thing."

"And what the fuck are we gonna do about that!?" Simon and Negan turned to see Martin glaring at them, Arat wrapping scraps of towels and cloth around the wound to his leg, a souvenir from the shattered glass earlier. Simon's lip curled as he glowered right back at the leader of Railyards, his face going a bit red.

"We can't do anything." Negan said, voice level and calm. As pants-pissing as this scenario could be, he knew what he had to do; it was just the fucking matter of doing it and doing it goddamn right and with a fucking time crunch to boot. "We will fight our way out and go. We can't defend Railyards with the fence out and a herd that size on our fucking doorstep." Martin opened his mouth argue, but Negan cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. "We'll gather whoever we can and whatever supplies we can snag and then we get the fuck out with the cars."

Martin grit his jaw, ice-blue eyes blazing angrily, but his lieutenants nodded, understanding that this was all they could do to escape with their lives and the lives of their loved ones.

Negan's fingers tightened around the handle of his bat, reveling in the worn, warm feeling of the wood beneath them as he waited for any objections he knew weren't coming. Martin and his few loyalists were outnumbered. They couldn't do jack shit.

"I want three people here as snipers." He said, doing his ut-fucking-most best to convey coolness and confidence. Three people (one man and two women) nodded and moved to position themselves. "Three people will guard them downstairs so they don't get fucking jumped Or chewed on." He added, almost as an afterthought. "The rest of us will get whatever and whoever we can and leave." He moved his eyes slowly and fucking purposefully over the assembled Railyarders and was met only with grim determination. "I don't want any goddamned heroes. It's balls to the fucking wall now people. Let's fiucking do this shit."

"Lead the way, boss." Simon said with a shrug, lifting his chin.

Negan gave a small smile and turned, Arat and Simon trailing after him at his heels.

* * *

Logan pulled Barf along with one hand around his wrist, gun in the other. He had heard his Dad talk about shitstorms and had always wondered about what they were, however now he knew. And he wished he didn't. He also wished Dad was here, since he was so busy wishing for shit.

But he wasn't and Logan had to be strong without him. Dad would come and find him.

Unless he's dead.

Logan grit his jaw, slamming the door shut on that idea. Dad was too strong to die. Too tough, too stubborn. So Logan would have to be too. They would survive together; they would always survive together.

A glance over at Barf showed that the other boy was still shell-shocked, trailing behind him like a walker that hadn t gotten the word yet that it was dead. Logan couldn't blame him; he squeezed Barf's wrist reassuringly, and the smaller kid looked up at him - face still red and streaming with tears - and nodded.

Logan gave a small flicker of a smile, before turning his attention back to where they were headed. He knew hiding would only get them killed, either bad guys or walkers would find them, and Logan only had three bullets left. His knife was still on his hip, but he was smaller then most other people, since he was still a kid.

 _'I can't fucking wait to be ten. Then I'll be taller and this shit will be easier.'_

His mind flickered over to the clearing where Dad had taught him to shoot and Logan thought it over, chewing on his lower lip as they neared the rear door of the warehouse, all the way in the back. Only Dad knew about it, and it was away from the bad guys and the fire - that he could smell that made his nose itch.

Yeah. That'd work.

Mind made up, Logan stood on his tip-toes to peer out the window, Barf hunched close to his side. He could see the fences leaning awkwardly, a few dead ones shambling past on some goal only they knew about. He bet it was the fire that was drawing them closer. And that made him feel much better. It was so much easier to sneak by walkers when they were too distracted by something or someone to pay any attention to you.

"We're gonna go through the fence. Dad took me shooting out in the woods once. I know where it is and we'll hide there until he finds us." Logan whispered to Barf. When Dad didn't find them here, he'd know that Logan left and found another place to hide and wait for him.

"O-o-oka-ay." Barf whimpered, his stuttering even worse now. Logan gave him a sympathetic look, trying to convey how sorry he was. Nothing he could say would help what his friend was feeling right now.

"I'll be right there with you." Logan added. "I promise. I won't leave you behind, ever." He looked down at his feet for a moment or two before holding up one hand, pinky out. Barf stared at it before giving the tiniest ghost of a smile before copying Logan and curling his pinky around his. "C'mon."

Logan shoved open the door, leaning his shoulder against it; it was way heavier then it looked, but he managed. Barf followed after him, still nervous and scared, but deteremined too, even if he was still shaking like a leaf.

Logan's eyes searched the fence for any holes in or under it, and he spotted a portion of wire that had been cut, the edges pulled away. He elbowed Barf's side and they made a run for it.

Within seconds rough hands grabbed him by the back of his jacket, stopping him with a sudden jerk that made his teeth click together. He kicked and struggled, punched and screamed, cursing and hurling insults wildly.

"You cockgobbling shitbag, lemme go, you fucker!"

Barf whimpered in terror, eyes wide behind his glasses as another man with a shaved head and grimy clothes grabbed him too.

"Fucking shit!" The man holding him grunted as Logan elbowed him as hard as he could, still thrashing his legs. "Zane, help me with this bastard! One of the man's arms wrapped around his neck and Logan did the first thing that came to his mind; he grabbed the man's arm and bit down as hard as he could.

He tasted blood and felt a brief rush of pride before a fist hit him in the side of the head and everything turned dark.

* * *

The warehouses were dark and muggy, without the generators lighting them. Negan, Simon, and Arat crept slowly through the halls; Negan armed with his bat, Simon with Negan's rifle, and Arat with a knife. They would do their best to keep noise to a goddamn minimum, but carried enough firepower to fight back in a tight spot.

Many of the rooms they passed by were empty and ransacked, doors hanging by their fucking hinges and clothes and personal items strewn every-fucking-where. Where the owners of the items were, Negan had no fucking clue. And part of him didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do was to find Logan.

"Where is everyone?" Arat whispered, breaking the eerie silence that hung over them all like a goddamned pall. Negan hadn't felt so on edge since the hospital when the Fall occurred. The silence grated on his ears in a way that almost pinged painfully through his head. The whole atmosphere felt cloying and wrong. Tense, like a rubber band being pulled all the way tight and just waiting for it to bust and snap the fuck out of your fingers.

"I don't have a goddamned clue." Negan rasped back, peering through the dim hallway ahead, the muscles in his shoulders tensed. "Can't be fucking dead." They weren't up to their asses in a horde of walkers of their fellow survivors. "We'd see bodies, walking or other-fucking-wise." Arat nodded grimly.

As they walk, Negan knows something is the fuck up; they don't see or hear anyone - walker or otherwise - in the warehouses, and there's nothing left but abandoned clothing and supplies. Soon enough they find themselves outside in the courtyard again, rain coming down in a torrential as fuck downpour as thunder rumbles and lightning crackles overhead.

And still not a soul to be seen.

Negan, Simon, and Arat stand under the roof and watch the storm rage around them. Negan holds his bat, clenching his hand around the now familiar handle as a flurry of emotions overtake him. The bat anchors him, keeps him grounded when all he wants to do is scream and rage.

 _'Lucille, give me strength._ ' He feels a bit of guilt, gnawing at his stomach when he thinks of asking his dead wife for something, but the words replay over and over in his mind like a broken record. ' _Please. Lucille, give me strength_.' He doesn't deserve any sort of favor from her, whether she can hear him or not. He refuses to accept that Logan might be dead; the alternative is too painful, too raw for him to believe. So sharp and focused, it feels like he's getting shot again.

Negan refuses to believe that Logan is dead. There's no goddamned way. Every-fucking-thing else in his life has been wrenched away from him, but he's not letting Logan go. Not without one hell of a fight. A nasty little part of him whispers that Logan is more than likely dead, or a walking corpse somewhere, but his mind instantly shuts down the idea, slams the door on it like a Jehovah's witness on a porch because he knows the little spitfuck is too stubborn to just roll over and die.

Negan forces himself to breathe, slow and steady, calm nerves, focus his anger, and steel himself for what he has to do now. Behind him, he hears Simon clear his throat. He gives it a few seconds before he turns, keeping his face neutral and blank.

Martin stands in front of him, supported by two of his lieutenants with his arms over their shoulders. He still looks pissed, but he's not as red as he usually is when he's mad, so Negan relieved he doesn't have to deal with a complete and utter shitfit right now.

They stare each other down for a couple of seconds, the silence tense and uncomfortable between them before Martin speaks.

"I heard that you can't find your kid." He doesn't sound sorry, but Negan didn't really expect him to. He stuffs down his anger, tilts his head and narrows his eyes slightly, waiting for the man to continue. "Some of the others are missing too." The leader of Railyards adds, watching Negan's face carefully. Negan doesn't know what Martin is getting at, but he knows to play his cards close to the vest with the fucker around. "There've been a couple that we've had to... put down, but some people have just... disappeared."

"They took them." Arat muttered, glowering with a dark look on her face. She's seated on a plastic bin she dragged from the inside, cleaning her gun with practiced ease, expression as stormy as their surroundings. Negan finds that he can relate to her pissy mood.

"We're not sure, but it's a possibilty." Martin says in response. His lieutenants say nothing; they're just there to help him and if they think otherwise, their carefully emotionless expressions aren't much for Negan to go on. He studies all of them as well as he can, waiting to see any sort of indication of what they're feeling to give him insight. He's good at reading people, all he needs is a fucking tidbit to glean from.

"What the fucking fuck do you mean, possibility?" Simon snaps, obviously irritated. His mustaches is practically bristling in anger. "Either they are or they're not." He growls, taking a step closer to Martin. One of Martin's lieutenants shoots him a warning look, his free hand going towards the machete belted to his hip before Negan swings the bat up, very gently tapping Simon on the shoulder with it and getting his attention.

"As fucking much as I hate agreeing with this prick, he does have a point, Si." He admitted, and saying those goddamned words leaves a bitter-ass taste in his mouth that makes him wish for the comforting burn of whiskey to wash it all away. But not now. Not until he finds Logan again, safe and fucking sound. He tries not to think of what he'll do if he doesn't. He'll burn that bridge when he comes to it. "Way I fucking see it, we need to follow them and get our fucking people back."

"And bring them back home." Martin adds, but Negan shakes his head with a disbelieving smirk growing across his face. He can't help the mirthless chuckle that breaks from him, even as his chest feels hollow.

"Hate to fucking break it to you, Marty, but this place ain't home anymore." He sneers, glaring coldly down at the shorter man with an unimpressed look. "Even if we could get the fences back up, how long until those bastards come a-fucking-knocking again." Negan shook his head, starting to slowly pace side to side, swinging the bat lazily near his legs as he did. "Stay here if you want." He stopped to level Martin with a serious stare. "But I'm leaving."

"Hope ya don't mind a road-trip buddy?" Simon said with a grin, earning a grudging smile and chuckle from Negan. Martin's glare turned to the mustachioed man now, his jaw clenching.

"Nah, I don't fucking mind. Logan likes you, so I guess we can keep you around." Negan muttered, swinging the bat up and resting the barrel of it on his shoulder, scratching at his stubbled cheek with his other hand.

"I like the idea of being cool Uncle Simon." Negan rolled his eyes, but Simon's cheerful amicabilty was something that he actually found he needed right now, with things looking so fucking glum and shitty. It helped soothe that empty ache sitting in the middle of his chest. It made Logan's absence just a tiny bit more bearable; of course, nothing would help more then getting the kid back.

"Well, I suppose someone will have to make sure you two idiots don't get yourselves killed." Arat sighed, voice apathetic, but a glimmer of humor in her dark eyes. She pushed herself up from her box to her feet, grabbing her rifle.

Martin made a choked-off sound of rage while his two lieutenants stared at Simon and Arat with thinly veiled anger.

"Where do you think you're going?" One asked, while the other glowered at them. Negan just grinned in response to their fury, almost relishing in it. Holy fuck, shit like this made his dick twitch in the best fucking way.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Martin spat, face turning an ugly shade of red in his anger. He broke free from the two stooges standing by his side, hobbling forwards to jab Negan in the chest sharply with one finger.

Despite the circumstances, Negan felt a flicker of grim amusement in his chest, and an answering grin slowly spread across his face.

"I'm fucking Negan."

* * *

The first thing Logan noticed when he woke up was that he had the worst freaking crick in his neck ever. He managed to peel his eyes open slowly, wincing as dull grey sunlight made them tear up.

He was being jostled against a car window, foggy from his breathing and streaked with rain on the outside. He looked next to him to see Barf, sitting with a one thousand yard stare and shivering and shaking. He tried to push himself up and found his hands were zip-tied behind his back.

"Sit the fuck still." A loud voice barked, making his head hurt. Logan glanced over to see a large man with short, dark hair and tattoos all over his arms and face sitting in the passenger seat. "Fucking little shit." He growled, glaring down at Logan. Logan glared right back. This was the man that had grabbed him and the one he had bitten. In fact, he had a scrap of clothe wrapped around his arm where Logan had gotten him.

"Fuck you! Pick on someone your own size, fatass!" He snapped, shoulders hunching instinctively in response.

"Jeeeeesus, Don, kid got you pegged." A laughing voice said, a skinny man with half his head shaved was driving, a rifle sitting in his lap.

"Shut the fuck up, Mike. Little smartass." Don huffed, adjusting his grip on the huge rifle in his hands. Logan sat up fully just to spite him, even though it made his head spin and he kinda wanted to throw up again. "Just do us a favor and shut the fuck up. We don't wanna hear your whining all the way back to base."

"Kiss my ass! I wasn't whining, bitchtits!" The skinny man, Mike, laughed again while Don whipped around and tried to grab Logan again with a large, meaty hand. "I'll fucking bite you again, fuckwich." Logan snarled, leaning out of his reach as well as he could and pulling at the zip tie holding his hands together. "You wanna lose a finger?"

"Can't we just fling the little shit out, Mike?" Don growled, his gaze flickering over to the other man. "Just say he opened the door and rolled outta the car or something?" Logan wished he could flip the fucker off and just settled for sticking his tongue out instead; it was the best he could do right now.

"Boss doesn't want the kids hurt, Don, you know that." Mike sighed, peering through the windshield as the rain came down harder. Logan looked too and could see that they were following another truck down the road. He could see the orange taillights through the rainy mist. "Just ignore him. He won't bother you if you don't bother him."

Don snorted and turned back around, grumbling under his breath. Logan slumped against the door, letting his head rest against the cool window and listening to the rain. Barf huddled close to him and Logan leaned against him, since he could move his arms from behind his back. He nervously watched as the scenary flash by, wondering where the hell they were going, and hoping that Dad would be able to find him.

* * *

Negan stepped out of the warehouses and into the courtyard, hearing the sound of walkers approaching in the distance, partially muffled by the sound of the torrential rain overhead.

There weren't many Railyarders left, only about thirty-five in all, and only about twenty-seven of those were willing to follow him and leave their former home. The rest were either on their asses on the fence or firmly in Martin's corner.

Negan felt his lip curl slightly, the muscles in his shoulders pulling taut as he watched several of the people - his people - load up the five vehicles they had managed to find. He refused to look at the green SUV sitting at the end of the line.

"Boss?" Simon's voice came from behind him, and he turned to see the man holding two shovels. "Got what ya asked for." Negan nodded and grabbed one of the shovels, walking past the people loading what supplies they could find into the short lines of cars and towards a patch of ground near the wall of a warehouse. He set his bat beside the body wrapped in a muddy sheet was laid out, tied off with rope. Balthazar.

Together, he and Simon started to dig, doing their best to heave shovel-fulls of muddy soil to one side. It was difficult and a little frustrating, but the exertion and repetition helped keep Negan's mind off of things. He could just focus it on the task at hand and not the way his stomach was leaden down and twisted up. Eventually, they made a deep enough grave to lay Balthazar's body in.

He and Simon stuck their shovels in the mound of wet earth they'd dug up, before shifting Balthazar's motionless, sheet-wrapped form into the hole. Negan getting the shoulders and Simon the feet. Not a word was said as they laid him as neatly and gently as they could, before climbing out of the grave themselves and looking down as rain came down, soaking them through their clothes.

"Should we say something?" Simon broke the silence, his usually cheerful voice soft and actually sensitive.

"Sorry it fucking came to this Balin." Negan said, voice hoarse and dry. He felt drained and exhausted, weariness tugging down on his bones and muscles. "Tell your wife I said hey." Negan grabbed his shovel again and started to pile the dirt back onto Balthazar's body. Simon watched him for a moment or two before following suite. It looked like he wanted to say something, but thankfully he just kept his big fucking mouth shut. Negan didn't want to have a little soul-bearing t te- -t te right now.

When they finished, Negan picked up his bat, brushing off any mud or water clinging to it as best as he could. He tossed the shovel in the back of the black pick-up at the front of the line, still feeling Simon's eyes on his back as he opened the passenger door and climbed in, settling the bat between his knees and leaning back in the seat, letting his eyes drift shut.

The driver's door opened, the truck shifting as Simon (and it could only be Simon) climbed inside, closing the door after him. They sat in silence for about a minute, rain pattering on the glass and the cab of the truck.

"You sure 'bout this, Boss?" Simon asked. Negan opened his eyes to see the other man watching him, dark eyes bright and alert.

"Yeah. Let's fucking rock and roll." Simon turned the keys and the truck rumbled to life, headlights flickering on. "Can't ex-fucking-xactly turn back now." He drawled, gaze flicking to the rear-view mirror to see the other cars turning on.

"No, not really." Simon snorted, resting his hands on the wheel, a small, grim smirk tugging the corner of his mouth upwards under his mustache. "Now what?"

"Take me down to paradise city. Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty." Negan hummed, earning shake of the head from Simon. The truck rolled forwards, the other vehicles in their tiny convoy following its lead. In the mirror on the passenger side, Negan could see the massive herd of walkers not even a mile away, milling slowly towards Railyards like a dark flood.

His mind flickered to Logan and he felt determination replace the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. The baseball bat's handle was warm and familiar in his grip, steadying and anchoring him to the present, reminding him what he needed to do. The promise he had made to himself and to Lucille. As Simon drove down the highway towards the city, Negan leaned back in the seat, mind racing.

 _'Hold on, kiddo. I'm coming.'_


End file.
